iductions  of  copyrighted  material. 

ain  conditions  specified  in  the  law,  lib 
^es  are  authorized  to  furnish  a  ph( 
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lotocopy  or  reproduction  is  not  to  b< 
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vjiuaiici-oiiciiiipciiyii 


ASTER  NEGATIV 
TORAGE  NUMBE 

95-0151 


Redman 
E:       Irish  Protesta 

letters 
:e:      New  York 

E:        1855 


Master  Negative  95-0151 


xxvjivxrkx^iiiijo  i^ivi_>oiJivv  rvi  ivyi'^  rMWjjUK^i. 


CATALOG  RECORD  TARGET 


)ert  Redman. 

•otestant  letters  /  by  R.R.B.  Dublin.  Also,  An  address  on  Ireland,  the  crad 

rature  /  by  J.B.  Finlay  ;  to  which  is  added  a  choice  collection  of  original  < 

ork  :  De  Witt  &  Davenport,  1855. 
p.  ;  23  cm. 

reland. 

)ry. 

y~Irish  authors. 

Boriand,  1826-1897.  Address  on  Ireland,  the  cradle  of  European  literature 

'eland,  the  cradle  of  European  literature. 


MICROFILMED  BY 

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THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  ILLINOIS 

LIBRARY 
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Drumcondra,  Ireland. 

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IRISH 

PROTESTANT  LETTERS. 

IITC,  ETQ, 
£Y  S.  B.  S.   DUBLIN. 

ALSO,  AN  ADDRESS  ON 

freknb  t|e  Crable  of  feopean  fiteratare. 

BY  REV.  J.  B.  FINLAY,  Ph.  D.  LL.  D. 

( 

TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED  A  CHOICE   COLLECTION  OF 

ORIGINAL   AND   SELECTED   POETRY. 


NEW  YORK: 

DE  WITT  &  DAVENPORT,  PUBLISHERS, 

160  NASSAU  STREET. 

VDCCCLY. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 
KOBEET   REDMAN    BELSHAW, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court,  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED   BY  W.    E.  BlAKENEY, 

Peter    Duncan,  Printer, 

22  Spruce  Street.  8  Spruce  Street. 


to 
S 
k> 

■ 

TO 

IHE  PATRIOTIC  SONS   OF  THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  AND  DISTINGUISHEB 
FOREIGN  PROTESTANTS,  WHO  MAINTAINED  THE  DECLARA- 
TION  OF  INDEPENDENCE,  AND  FOUGHT   FOR   FREE- 
DOM    AND    THE   RIGHTS    OF   MAN    ON    THE 
BATTLE  FIELDS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION, 
WHERE  THEY  SUPPORTED    IN- 
VIOLATE, THE  CAUSE  OF 

AND  ALSO  TO 

ALL  PEOTESTANT  IfHSHMEN 

NOW  BESIDINQ  IN   AMERICA, 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  MOST  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


486336 


PRETACE. 


In  presenting  to  a  generous  Public,  the  following  letters,  &c. 
the  author  is  not  induced  to  do  so  from  any  claim  to  merit  or  su- 
periority. His  chief  desire  is  to  set  before  the  enlightened  citizens 
of  America,  the  true  character  of  Protestant  foreigners  in  gener. 
al,  and  of  Irish  Protestants  in  particular.  If  Ireland  occupies  the 
attention  of  the  writer  to  a  great  extent,  it  should  not  create  any 
surprise,  inasmuch  as  his  youngest  years  were  spent  in  that  coun- 
try, and  its  history  has  long  been  his  favorite  study. 

The  statements  embodied  in  these  pages  have  been  drawn  from 
the  most  reliable  sources.  Though  they  may  not  be  favorably  re- 
ceived by  all  their  readers,  they  are  nevertheless  stubborn  facts. 
Actuated  by  a  true  love  for  his  native  land,  he  has  introduced  a 
few  of  the  illustrious  names  that  have  adorned  his  country — men 
whose  brilliant  deeds  in  America  have  raised  a  monument  of  glo- 
ry to  which  posterity  will  exultingly  point  as  they  exclaim,  "  Be- 
hold the  deeds  of  our  fathers  in  other  times  !"  Honor  to  their 
memories  !  Though  some  may  endeavor  to  deny  the  truthful- 
ness of  his  conclusions,  he  is,  however,  well  aware,  that  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Washington  Irving  :  "  There  is  a  certain  meddlesome 
spirit,  which  in  the  garb  of  learned  research,  goes  prying  about 
the  traces  of  history,  casting  down  its  fairest  trophies.  Care 
should  be  taken  to  vindicate  great  names  from  such  pernicious 
erudition." 

The  author  is  conscious  of  many  defects  in  this  work.  Typo- 
graphical errors,  over  which  he  had  no  control,  have  unavoidably 
crept  into  it  while  passing  through  the  press,  and  ha»-e  renderd 
it  not  so  perfect  as  it  otherwise  should  have  been.  As  it  now 
stands  he  only  asks  for  it  a  careful  examination ;  not  from  the 
eyes  of  professional  critics,  but  from  those  of  an  inquiring  public, 
lie  is  not  an  author  by  profession,  but  merely  a  tyro  in  the  halls 
of  literature.      He  knows^as  Byron  has  thus  expressed  : — 

"  A  man  must  serve  his  time  to  every  trade 
Save  censure  ;  critics  all  are  ready  made. 


W  PREFACE. 

A  modem  critic  is  a  thing  who  runs 

Ail  ways,  all  risks  to  evitate  his  duns ; 

Let  but  an  author  ask  him  home  to  dine, 

And  lend  him  money  while  he  gave  him  wine ; 

However  dull  the  trash  the  man  might  write, 

His  praise  the  grateful  guest  would  still  indite." 

Before  one  can  praise  or  blame  the  Protestants  of  Ireland,  it  i^ 
necessary  that  he  become  acquainted  with  the  history  of  their 
country.     For  Ireland  has  a  noble  history. 

Nearly  1000  years  before  the  Christian  era,  Ireland  had  a  liter- 
ary character.  Her  Celtic  code  of  laws  has  since  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  English  and  American  law.  The  Christian  religion  was 
introduced  there  about  the  end  of  the  first  century.  In  the  year 
432,  Succathus  Magonius,  named  "St.  Patrick,"  arrived  :  church- 
es and  seminaries  increased  throughout  the  island  until  the 
tenth  century.  Then  came  the  Danes  who  plundered  the  coasts 
— burned  the  public  buildings,  and  took  possession  of  Dublin  and 
Waterford.  •  In  the  year  1155,  Pope  Adrian  made  a  grant  of  that 
country  to  King  Henry  II,  that  Popery  might  be  introduced  into  it 
by  the  civil  power.  In  the  year  1172  the  English  monarch  took 
possession  of  Dublin.  Before  that  period  Popery  was  unknown 
in  Ireland.  From  the  year  1172,  until  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII, 
two  churches  existed  there — the  Ancient  Irish  Church  and  the  Po- 
pish Irish  Church  :  the  one  independent  of,  and  the  other  in  sub- 
mission to,  the  Roman  Pontiff.  When  the  Reformation  began  in 
Ireland,  the  ancient  Irish  Culdees  united  with  the  Reformed 
Church.  This  caused  the  Irish  Papists  great  mental  pain.  Then 
came  a  Bull  from  Pope  Gregory  XIII,  in  1580,  to  incite  religious 
dissension  in  the  country.  Then  came  another  Bull,  in  1041, 
which  caused  the  Irish  Protestant  Massacre.  Then  came  the 
condemnation  of  the  Protestant  clergy  and  gentry,  in  1688 ;  and 
with  it  came  the  famous  Siege  of  Derry  and  the  glorious  Battle  of 
the  Boyne,  where  Protestants  heroically  fought  for,  and  gloriously 
won,  the  liberties  of  their  country.  Then  came  the  Rebellion  in 
1798  when  Popery  appeared  once  more  in  its  real  colors  at  Wex- 
ford Bridge,  and  Scullabogue  Barn. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  Irish  history,  which  will  be  found  elu- 
cidated in  these  pages. 

Another  object  of  this  volume  is  to  point  out  the  machinations 
of  Popery  on  the  Institutions  of  America ;  and  also  to  show  the 
relation  of  foreign  Protestants  towards  the  same.  Protestants 
come  to  this  country  that  they  may  avail  themselves  of  the   ii:- 


PBEFACK.  Vn 

creased  facilities  for  commercial  intercourse,  and  not  to  interfere 
>vith  politics  or  political  aggrandizement,  they  believe  that  Amer- 
icans should  rule  America. 

The  greater  portion  of  this  work  appeared  during  the  past  year 
in  the  columns  of  the  N.  Y.  True  American',  from  thence  it 
was  copied  into  a  large  number  of  papers  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic ;  amongst  '«'hich  may  be  mentioned  the  Sentinel  of 
London,  the  organ  of  the  Protestant  Association  of  Great  Brit- 
ain and  Ireland,  edited  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gregg.  In  compliance 
with  numerous  requests  to  have  them  republished  in  a  more  per- 
manent form,  they  have  now  been  collected  for  that  purpose,  and 
are  here  presented  to  the  public  with  some  additional  matter. 

The  article  on  *'  Ireland  the  Cradle  of  European  Liierature^'^ 
is  from  the  pen  of  Rev.  Dr.  Finlay  of  Brooklyn,  who  is  widely 
known  for  his  literary  attainments  as  an  author.  It  will  repay 
the  perusal  of  every  student  ot  history. 

The  poetry-  has  been  carefully  selected.  Some  of  it  has  never 
been  published  before.  "  The  Lays  of  the  Ulster  Minstrelsy  " 
will  afford  much  gratification  to  all  admirers  of  patriotic  song  ; 
they  are  especially  directed  to  the  attention  of  Irish  Protestants  ;, 
for  in  the  language  of  Ossian  : — "  Pleasant  are  the  words  of  the 
song !  Lovely  the  tales  of  other  times,  when  the  joy  of  youth  re- 
turns." , 

B.  R.  B.,  Dublin. 


CONTENTS. 


Pago 

Address  to  the  Ieish  Protestants  in  the  United  States.        ...       3 

Letter  I. 

John  Mitchel  and  True  Irishmen 16 

Letter  II. 

John  Mitehel  and  the  Invasion  of  Canada.^The  position  of  the  former  Trith  the 
regard  to  tho  "Irish,"  or  popish  party. — Their  leaders. — O'Meagher  and 
Mitehel. — The  New  York  "  Irish  Universal,  Civil  and  Military  Republican 
Union,"  under  President  O'Malley,  .......      19 

Letter  III. 

Influence  of  Jesuitism  on  American  Politics. — Political  foreigners  and  their 
antecedents. — The  I^faturalization  Laws  and  their  great  convenience  for  the 
naturalization  of  Popery  in  tho  United  States 25 

Letter  IV. 

Tho  American  movcmont  and  its  enemies. — The  principle  of  the  American  Eev- 
olutiou  and  its  future  prospects. — The  danger  of  Popery  as  seen  in  its  pres- 
ent appearance  and  past  history.  29 

Letter  V. 

Patriotism  of  Protestant  Foreigners. — Sketches  of  Presbyterian  and  Episcopa- 
palian  reminiscences •        ....      34 

Letter  VI. 

The  Protestants  of  Ireland  and  their  position  in  1843. — Reminiscences  of  tho 
Irish  Orangemen,  with  observations  on  the  same. 37 

Letter  VII. 

The  Irisli  M'l.ssacre  of  1641,  with  a  few  details  of  the  same,  from  the  affadavits 
that  have  been  preserved  in  the  Library  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin. — The 
Battle  of  the  Boyne,  1690. — Historical  illustrations  of  the  pract  cal  opera- 
tions of  Popery 41 

Letter  VIII. 

The  Irish  Rebellions  and  Confiscations  of  Desmond  in  1530,  and  Tyrone  in  1641 
with  some  notices  of  the  "  Patriots  "  concerned  therein,  and  the  motives  b/ 
which  they  were  actuated. 49 

Letter  IX. 

Ths  American  Revolution,  and  the  assistance  rendered  to  it  by  the  Irish  North- 
men or  Protestant-Irish. ...       54 

Letter  X. 

The  Apostolic  character  of  the  Ancient  Irish  and  British  Churches,  with  some 
p.;^count  of  tho  intro  luction  of  Ciiristianity  into  the  British  Islands. — Ireland 
thj  scat  of  Religion  and  Learning  before  the  introduction  of  Popery  by  the 
Anglo  Saxon. — Ilor  future  prospects  through  the  restoration  of  her  ancient 
faith •         ...       59 

Letter  XI.      , 

Irish  do;.ineration  in  modern  times,  the  natural  result  of  Popery. — English  re- 
gcnoriitiou  within  the  last  three  huadrod  years,  the  natural  result  of  Protes- 
tantism.          .         .         .      G7 

Letter  XII. 

Address  to  the  edue;>.tad  Roman  Catholics.— Romanism  as  seen  in  those  coun- 
tries where  it  wields  exclusive  and  unbounded  influence.  ....       69 


lEEL.i.KB  TII3  Cradle  of  European  Liter.a.ture 7;] 

Remixiscbnces  of  DtTBLiN— IIistoricat.  and  Descriptive.         .        .        .      S6 
Lisbuun,  and  its  surrounding  scenery 96 


CONTENTS. 

ORIGINAL.  AND  SELECTED  POETRY. 


The  British  Isles. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived. 

The  White  Mountain. 

Acrostic  on  "  A  Presbyterian." 

Acrostic  on  "  The  Solemn  League  and  Covenant- 

The  Vision.  .  .  , 

Worils  of  an  old  Irish  air. 

The  E.\ile. 

The  Irishman.     .  .  , 

The  British  in  Portugal. 

The  Huguenot  Battle  Hymn.     . 

The  Deep.  .  .  , 

The  Brave  Old  World     . 

Napoleon's  Epitaph. 

"War  Song  of  the  Greeks. 

The  Soldier's  Funeral.     . 

The  Lady  of  Provence.    . 

The  Stars  of  Night. 

Dreams  of  the  Dead.       .  , 

The  Picture  of  the  Dead. 

Streams. 

The  Spanish  Conquests  in  America. 

Bingen  on  the  Shine. 

Weep  not  for  him  that  dieth. 

The  Stranger's  Heart.     , 

The  Message  to  the  Dead.  . 

The  Young  Pastor. 

The  Reformation.  .  . 

The  Three  Prophets, 

Erin,  Mavourneen.  .  , 

The  Nurse's  Song. 

The  Music  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  Dublin 

Acrostic  on  a  young  lady. 

Elegy  on  the  death  of  James  Freeman,  Esq. 

Lines  on  the  death  of  the  late  Richard  Belshaw, 

The  signing  of  the  Covenant  in  the  Greyfriars' 

Peden  at  the  grave  of  Cameron. 

On  the  death  of  a  young  lady.    . 

Fragments. — Friendship — The  Moss  Rose — Liberty. 

The  Songs  of  our  Fathers.  . 


Esq. 
Churchyard,  Edinburgh. 


98 
9f 
IOC 
101 
10] 
10? 
10.- 
104 
106 
107 
107 
109 
109 
111 
113 
114 
115 
117 
118 
119 
120 
122 
122 
123 
124 
125 
126 
128 
128 
129 
130 
130 
131 
132 
134 
135 
137 
138 
139 
140 


THE  LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELSY. 


The  Shutting  of  the  gates  of  Derry. 

The  Reli  f  of  Derry. 

The  Maiden  City. 

The  Battle  of  the  Boyne.  . 

The  Death  of  Schomberg.  . 

The  Relief  of  Leyden.     .  , 

The  Spanish  Armada.  . 

Battle  of  Lisnagarvey.  . 

The  Gathering  of  the  North. 

The  Ulster  Yeomen's  Remonstrance. 

Oliver's  Advice. 

Ulster  to  the  Bescue. 

The  Charter  Song  of  the  Watson  Orange 

The  Old  Commodore. 

Lines  on  John  Jeflferson,  Sen.,  Esq. 

On  the  graves  of  the  French  Protestants  in  Lisburn  Churchyard. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North. 

Orang' men,  come  on !     . 

No  Surrender.    .  .  . 


e  Lodge,  No.  356. 


142 

144 
144 
146 
148 
149 
150 
151 
152 
154 
155 
157 
158 
159 
160 
161 
163 
164 
165 


IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS. 


Address  to  the  Irish  Protestants  in  the 
United  States. 


BY  R.    B.  B.  DUBLIN, 

Protestant  Fellow  Countrymen  : — In  addressing  you  on 
the  present  occasion  it  is  my  intention  to  bring  forward  some  well 
known  facts,  to  bear  on  the  calumnious  assertions  so  frequently 
made  against  our  country  and  people.  It  has  long  been  the  cus- 
tom with  many  to  denounce  everything  Irish  as  being  decidedly 
inferior.  I  refer  especially  to  those  who  make  no  distinction  be- 
tween us  and  the  ancient  enemies  of  our  faith.  Some  indeed, 
have  rendered  us  tardy  justice  under  the  generic  title  of  Ameri- 
cans, but  not  as  Irishmen.  Our  country  has  long  enough  been 
disgraced  by  a  Popish  misrepresentation  in  this  great  Republic. 
As  Irishmen,  we  are  now  bound  to  stand  forth  before  the  pub- 
lic, and  give  a  practical  refutation  to  that  erroneous  impression 
so  prevalent  with  many  who  speak  as  if  "  Irish"  and  "  Popish" 
were  synonymous  terms. 


4  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

Irishmen  :  It  is  no  disgrace  to  be  an  Irishnir  ,i ,  ^u<'  a  ts  a> 
disgrace  to  be  ashamed  of  being  an  Irishman  ;  or  to  be  forg^jtful 
of  that  ancient  classic  and  historic  land  of  ours,  adorned  with 
heathy  mountain  and  swelling  woodland — whose  every  hill, 
valley,  lake  and  river  tells  in  silence  its  tale  of  other  years,  being 
associated  withsome  venerable  name  or  glorious  deed  of  the  past 
Ireland  abounds  in  relics  of  departed  glory.  Her  ivy-clad  ruins 
are  to  be  seen  in  all  directions,  inviting  the  traveller  and  the  anti- 
quarian to  investigate  her  history  and  espouse  her  cause.  And 
while  he  listens  to  her  plaintive  bards  or  hears  the  wild  music 
of  her  native  harp,  he  is  in  danger  of  being  carried  away  by  that 

4 

enthusiasm,  which  in  cooler  moments  he  might  deprecate  as  ini- 
mical to  truthful  investigation  or  philosophical  deduction.  There 
is  such  a  thing  to  the  contemplative  mind  as  the  influence  of  lo- 
cality ;  and  there  are  in  Ireland  spots  of  peculiar  attraction  and 
thrilling  interest,  which  derive  their  power  from  the  beautiful  of 
scenery,  the  splendor  of  achievement,  the  sublime  of  genius  or  the 
amiable  of  piety.  Who  has  not  loved  to  gaze  and  linger  there  ? 
Almost  every  land  has  at  least  some  of  these  favorite  haunts  that 
call  upon  us  to  "  come  and  see."  Shall  not  history  record  the 
spot  where  men  of  renown  drew  their  first  breath  ;  and  literature 
consecrate  the  hamlet  where  genius  first  saw  the  light  or  awoke 
the  lyre  ?  Shall  not  the  Greek  be  fired  at  the  sight  of  Marathon, 
where  the  mighty  fell  in  victory  ?  Shall  not  the  philosopher  be 
chained  to  Athens,  the  school  where  science  taught,  and  the  plat- 
form where  oratory  thundered  .?  Shall  not  the  Jew  linger  with 
rapture  over  the  vales  where  the  father  of  the  faithful  pitched 
Ilia  tent,  or  the  mountains  on  which  Isaiah  struck  his  harp,  or  the 
summit  on  which  stood  the  temple  of  his  God,  like  a  glittering 
mount  of  snow  in  the  profound  of  heaven  ?  Shall  not  the  Scot- 
tish Covenanter  bow  with  veneration  over  the  hallowed  spot 
where  lies  the  martyr  whom  "  persecution  dragged  forth  to  fame 
and  chased  up  to  heaven?"  Shall  not  the  Briton  revere  the  spot 
on,  which  the  standard  of  Freedom  was  first  erected  in  England  by 
Robert  Fitz waiter  and  the  mail-clad  barons  of  Runimede  ?    And 


IKISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  0 

in  another  hemisphere  shall  not  the  true  American  regard  with 
peculiar  interest  the  memories  of  Lexington,  Bunker's  Hill  and 
Yorktown,  in  which  were  begun,  continued,  and  ended,  the  strug- 
gles of  his  country  for  her  national  Independence  ? 

Protestant  Irishmen  :  Some  of  you  are  descended  from  the 
ancient  Irish  Scots,  who  in  early  ages  were  the  light  of  surround- 
ing nations,  and  from  whom  our  country  received  the  honorable 
appellation  of  Insula  Sanctorum,  or  Island  of  Saints.  In  the  be- 
ginning of  the  seventh  century,  when  Aiden  went  over  to  England 
as  a  missionary  from  the  Irish  Church,  (many  of  his  countrymen 
being  also  engaged  in  like  manner  through  nearly  every  part  of 
Europe,  including  Southern  Russia  and  the  now  famous  Crimea) 
the  Saxon  king  Oswald,  who  had  been  educated  amongst  the  Irish 
Scots,  thought  it  not  beneath  him  to  act  as  interpreter,  for  the  ben- 
efit of  his  pagan  Saxon  subjects.  In  the  language  of  Dr.  Fuller, 
Prebendary  of  Sarum,  England  ;  "  these  two  put  together  made 
a  perfect  preacher.  And  though  some  will  say,  sermons  thus 
at  second  hand  lose  much  of  their  life  and  lustre ;  yet  the  same 
spirit  working  in  both,  proved  effectual  in  the  salvation  of  many 
souls."  It  was  thus  that  the  lamp  of  Erin  shone  brightly  during 
the  days  ot  her  early  greatness  ;  but  a  change,  a  fatal  change,  was 
destined  to  come  over  the  spirit  of  her  dream ;  she  that  was  once 
the  asylum  of  religion  and  learning  in  Europe,  and  to  her  honor 
be  it  said,  was  the  last  European  country  that  acknowledged  the 
Papal  Supremacy. 

I  shall  now  pass  over,  with  few  remarks,  the  Anglo-Norman 
conquest  of  1172,  which  was  the  result  of  a  Papal  Bull  from 
Adrian  IV  to  Henry  II,  empowering  the  latter  to  "  extend  the 
boundaries  of  the  church,"  and  as  a  practical  proof  of  having 
done  so,  he  was  to  collect  one  carolus  annually  from  each  Irish 
family,  for  the  support  of  the  Papal  authority,  exercised  by  the 
Supreme  Pontiff.  In  after  years,  when  England  and  Scotland 
arose  from  the  spiritual  and  temporal  lethargy  into  which  for  ages 
they  had  fallen,  and  when  they  declared  that  Britons  should  and 
would  be  free,  and  that  the  power  of  Rome  should  enslave  them 


0  laiSII    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

no  longer,  it  was  then  the  government  of  England  committed  that 
great  mistake  which  has  left  Ireland  a  Popish  country  to  this  day. 
They  imagined  that  by  suppressing  the  Irish  language  they  were 
destroying  the  influence  of  popery,  when,  in  fact,  they  were  doing 
exactly  the  reverse.  If  the  English  government  had  caused  a 
translation  of  the  Scriptures  to  be  made  into  the  Irish  language, 
and  appointed  no  clergyman  to  ofiice  in  the  church  but  such  as 
were  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  language  and  manners  of  the 
people,  the  Reformation  would  have  progressed  there  with  greater 
rapidity  than  in  any  other  country  of  Europe.  It  is  no  wonder, 
therefore,  that  Ireland  has  remained  a  Popish  country,  when  such 
a  blundering  line  of  policy  was  adopted  by  her  rulers  at  that  criti- 
cal period  of  her  national  history.  There  were  however,  some 
honorable  exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  and  amongst  them  was 
the  venerable  Bishop  Bedell,  of  Kilmore,  who  learned  the  Irish 
language  when  over  sixty  years  of  age,  and  with  the  assistance  of 
an  educated  Irishman  made  a  translation  of  the  Scriptures  into 
that  language.  But  it  came  a  century  too  late ;  for  immediately 
after,  the  Popish  Massacre  of  1641  swept  the  country,  destroying 
200,000  of  the  Protestant  inhabitants.  The  good  old  bishop  died 
shortly  afterwards  from  the  effects  of  harsh  treatment  received  at 
that  time,  while  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  Papists.  But  such 
was  the  estimation  in  which  his  character  was  held  by  some  of 
them,  who  personally  knew  him,  that  a  Jesuit  friar,  while  stand- 
ing by  his  grave,  exclaimed  :  "  Would  God  !  that  my  soul  were 
with  Bedell !" 

When  the  general  massacre  occured,  a  remnant  of  the  Prot- 
estants were  saved  by  the  timely  information  given  on  the  day 
previous  at  Dublin  Castle,  by  Owen  O'Connelly,  an  Elder  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church.  During  the  same  year  when  the  Popish 
Army  under  the  Red  O'Neill  was  carrying  on  the  work  of  desola- 
tion and  death  to  the  full  satisfaction  of  their  Pontifical  master 
and  Jesuit  leaders,  it  was  at  Lisnagarvey,  (now  Lisburn)  a  settle- 
ment of  the  Scots  and  English  in  Antrim,  that  they  received  their 
first  grand  defeat  in  Ulster.     The  attack  was  made  on  the  Sab- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  7 

bath,  and  so  obstinate  was  the  engagement  that  the  town  was  re- 
duced to  ashes,  after  which  it  was  called  by  its  present  name. — 
Had  not  the  inhabitants  fought  like  sons  of  Maccabeus  in  defence 
of  their  rights,  the  name  of  Protestant  would  have  been  swept 
from  the  Northern  shore;  for  the  religious  "exercises"  of  the 
Papists  that  morning  consisted  of  an  oath  to  that  effect.  Some, 
perhaps,  who  read  this  paper,  will  imagine  that  such  atrocities  as 
were  then  committed  were  a  peculiarity  of  the  Irish  character. — 
Now,  for  the  information  of  those  who  may  labor  under  this 
erroneous  impression,  I  have  merely  to  state  that  if  they  substi- 
tute the  word  "  Popish,"  for  "  Irish,"  they  will  arrive  at  a  proper 
conclusion.  In  proportion  to  the  fine  susceptibilities  of  the  soul 
on  which  popery  may  act,  will  be,  as  it  has  ever  been,  the  conse- 
quent degradation.  As  for  instance,  a  learned  writer  has  well 
remarked  that  "  drunkenness  makes  a  beast  of  a  man,  and  a  devil 
of  a  woman"  so,  in  like  manner  can  the  operations  of  popery  be 
traced  in  their  different  workings  on  the  several  branches  of  the  hu- 
man family.  It  was  popery  in  England  that  caused  five  hundred 
English  men,  women  and  children  to  be  burned  at  the  stake  by 
their  pure  Anglo-Saxon  countrymen,  in  the  reign  of  bloody  Queen 
Mary.  It  was  popery  in  France  that  caused  a  million  of  Hu- 
guenots to  be  murdered,  at  one  time,  by  their  naturally  chivalric 
fellow-countrymen.  In  none  of  the  cases  mentioned  was  it  a  pe- 
culiarity of  the  national  character  that  led  to  the  commission  of 
those  cool  and  deliberate  murders  that  have  handed  down  the 
"  Church,"  at  whose  bidding  they  were  committed,  as  an  execra- 
tion to  all  generations. 

Had  the  Irish  language  been  appreciated  at  the  proper  time, 
and  missionaries  sent  through  the  people,  Ireland  would  now  be  a 
different  country.  The  English  and  Scottish  Reformation  suc- 
ceeded, having  been  conducted  in  the  language  of  the  people,  but 
in  Ireland  the  plan  was  otherwise,  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  failed. 
Rome  in  her  generation  was  wiser  than  England.  The  fatal  er- 
ror, with  regard  to  the  language  of  M'i?i  mavourneen  acushla  ma- 
chree^  was  only  equaled  in  later  years  by  that  in  which  they  lost 


8  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

an  empire  greater  than  ever  Caesar  won.     There  is  no  dialect  more 

expressive  of  the  finer  feelings  of  the  soul,  than  the  Irish.     Of  the 

Reformation  it  has  been  said: 

"  And  Oh !  be  it  heard  in  that  language  endearing, 
In  which  the  fond  mother  her  lullaby  sung, 
Which  spoke  the  first  lispings  of  childhood  and  bearing 
The  father's  last  prayer  from  his  now  silent  tongue  ; 
That  so  as  it  breathes  the  pure  sound  of  devotion. 
And  speaks  with  the  power  that  still'd  the  rough  ocean, 
Each  breast  may  be  calmed  into  gentle  emotion. 
And  Erin's  wild  harp  to  Hosannas  be  strung." 

The  Irish  are  a  peculiar  people  ;  they  have  strong  and  ardent 
feelings,  with  resentments  as  quick  as  the  impulses  which  lead 
them  to  be  generous,  high-minded  and  faithful.  In  the  very  fact 
of  their  continued  hostility  to  England,  we  behold  even  in  their 
degradation,  the  natural  working  of  a  noble  character.  If  we  take, 
for  example,  the  Saxon  and  Celtic  papists  under  foreign  invasion, 
we  find  the  former  after  one  battle,  bowing  beneath  the  sceptre  of 
William  the  Conqueror,  while  the  latter  for  centuries  resisted  the 
oppression  of  the  Norman  and  Saxon.  After  the  Reformation, 
through  the  negligence  of  England,  this  noble  principle  was  allow- 
ed to  be  perverted  by  the  wily  emissaries  of  a  crafty  foreign  priest- 
hood, even  so  far  as  to  endanger  the  existence  of  Protestantism 
in  the  British  Islands.  The  Irish  people  have  been  grossly  defam- 
ed. The  monstrous  and  incredible  fictions  of  ignorant  and  for- 
eign authors,  have,  from  the  earliest  age,  been  employed  to 
excite  the  contempt  of  the  English  nation  towards  them.  It  is  a  mel- 
ancholy reflection,  that  the  successive  governments  of  England, 
should  have  been  so  long  and  so  obstinately  blind  to  the  real  in- 
terests of  the  country,  as  to  conceive  it  more  expedient  to  attempt 
the  suppression  of  the  national  spirit  by  legal  severity,  than  to 
Adopt  a  system  of  national  instruction  and  general  industry ;  giv- 
ing to  the  minds  of  the  people,  a  proper  tendency  and  peaceable 
direction. 

An  enthusiastic  attachment  to  the  land  of  his  birth,  is  a  promi- 
aent  trait  of  the  Irish  character,  which  neither  time  nor  absence, 
prosperity,  nor  adversity,  can  obliterate  or  diminish.     Wherever 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


»n  Irishman  is  born,  there  he  wishes  to  die,  and  however  success- 
full  he  may  have  been,  in  acquiring  wealth  or  rank  in  foreign  lands, 
he  returns,  with  fond  affection,  to  renew  his  intercourse  with  the 
rriends  and  companions  of  his  youth.  The  national  character,  as 
described  by  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  in  the  twelfth  century,  still 
remains  true.  "  If  an  Irishman  be  a  good  man,  there  is  no  better ; 
if  a  bad  man,  there  is  none  worse." 

Protestant  Irishmen:  Many  of  you  are  descended  from  the 
blue-bonneted  Scotchmen  who  came  to  our  Green  Isle  two  hun- 
dred years  ago.  When  persecution  raged  hot  at  home,  our  land 
became  the  refuge  of  those  uncompromising  defenders  of  the  Faith, 
who  came  from  the  "  land  of  the  mountain  and  flood."— who  left 
the  homes  of  their  nativity  rather  than  disown  the  supremacy  of 
Christ's  crown  and  covenant,  Is  it  necessary  to  recur  to  the  days 
that  are  past,  whichcanneverbeblottedfromthehistory  of  the  Prot- 
estant Church'?  Visit  the  mountainsof  Scotland  and  contemplate  the 
stern  Cameronian — the  enduring  Covenanter.    Where  shall  we 

find  greater  examples  of  noble  daring  than  what  have  been  display- 
ed within  her  borders  1  From  the  "  bonnie  Highland  heither"  of 
her  lofty  summits,  to  the  modest  lily  of  the  vale — from  the  proud 
foaming  crest  of  Solway,  to  the  calm  polished  breast  of  Loch  Ka- 
trine, not  a  river  or  lake  but  has  swelled  with  the  life-tide  of  free- 
men, in  the  land  of  Wallace — of  Bruce — of  Cameron,  and  of  old 
Lochiel,  "  proud  bird  of  the  mountain."  You,  the  sons  of  a 
gallant  people,  who  came  to  the  shores  of  Ulster  as  a  colony  re- 
turning to  the  mother  country — for  Ireland  gave  to  Caledonia  the 
Scottish  name  and  race.  Among  the  ornaments  of  the  Scottish 
church  of  Ireland  was  Columba,  born  near  Derry,  in  Ulster,  A. 
D.  521.  He  became  the  Apostle  of  the  Scots  in  Scotland.  After 
the  conversion  of  that  people  he  received  a  grant  from  their  king 
of  the  Island  of  lona,  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  Culdean 
fraternity,  or  college.  This  place  afterward  became  a  great  sem- 
inary of  the  church,  and  from  it  came  many  celebrated  missiona- 
ries, who  carried  the  Gospel  through  Britain  and  other  countries 
of  Europe.     To  the  Scotch-Irish  we  owe  the  Presbyterian  Church 


10  IRISH    PROrKSTANT    LETTERS. 

of  Ireland,  with  its  thousand  congregations,  which  have  miade  Ul- 
ster to  blossom  as  a  rose,  by  restoring  the  primitive  faith  of  our 
fathers,  when  our  country  was  known  as  the  Island  of  Saints. 

Protestant  Irishmen  :  Many  of  you  are  descended  from  the 
honest  Saxon  Englishmen,  who  at  various  times  have  settled  in 
Ireland.  As  Protestants,  you  have  ever  been  found  amongst  the 
brightest  ornaments  of  our  country.  The  Episcopal  Church,  to 
which  you  belong,  has  produced  men  eminent  for  rare  talents, 
literary  attainments  and  exemplary  piety,  such  as  Ussher,  Bedell 
and  Taylor, whose  praise  is  in  all  the  churches.  You  have  been 
am  ongst  the  foremost  in  practical  attention  to  industry,  with  its 
accompanying  results,  law  and  order.  As  a  body  you  are  not  to 
be  held  responsible  for  the  errors  committed  by  the  English  gov- 
ernment, in  the  days  that  are  past.     Such  as,  for  instance,  the  un- 

■  wise  measures  adopted  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  and  after- 
'  wards  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  when  "  Dissenters  "  or  Pres- 
byterians who  had  been  most  active  in  bringing  about  the  glorious 
Revolution   of  1688,  were  placed  under  civil  disabilities  nearly 
equal  to  those  papists  who  had  treacherously  conspired  to  over- 

'  throw   the  liberties  of  Great  Britain.      It  was  this  short-sighted 

policy  that  produced  such  alienation  in  the  North  of  Ireland,  and 
caused  the  great  emigration  from  that  place  to  this  country.  And 
as  a  kind  of  retributive  justice,  from  those  very   men  came  the  first 

■  Declaration  of  Independence  in  the  United  States,  at  Mecklenhurgh, 
\  Charhtte  county^  North  Carolina. 

\  Protestant  Irishmen  :  Some  of  you  are  descended  from  the 

I  noble-minded   Huguenots  who  came  to  Ireland  after  the  revocation 

\  of  the  Edict  of  Nantz.     Your  ancestors    were  exiled  from  theii 

I  fatherland — the  peaceful  valleys  and   vine-clad  hills  of  France. 

I  Their  homes  were  destroyed,  their  churches  desecrated,  and  theii 

'  pastors  slain  by  the  sword.     The  rights  gratefully  extended  by  a 

'  king  whom  they  have  elevated  to  the  throne,  were  withdrawn  by 

\  a  perjured  successor,  at  the  instigation  of  a  shaven  priestly  horde, 

i  the  servants  of   "  the  Man  of  Sin  and  Son  of  Perdition." 

i  Among  the  settlements  made  by  the  Huguenots   in  Ireland, 

I 
I 

I 


y 


IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  11 

was  one  at  Lisburn,  where  they  commenced  the  linen  trade,  to 
which  they  had  been  brought  up.  It  has  ever  since  been  success- 
fully carried  on  by  the  inhabitants  of  that  town,  and  Ulster  ge- 
nerally, until  Irish  linens  from  their  superior  finish  have  attained 
a  world-wide  celebrity  being  used  in  all  civilized  countries.  I  may 
here  mention  the  fact  that  nearly  all  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe 
are  supplied  with  the  produce  of  the  diaper  and  damask  manu- 
factories of  Lisburn.  The  armorial  and  other  devices  of  each, 
whether  emblematic  of  rank  or  achievements,  are  tastefully  drawn 
in  the  pattern  of  the  work,  so  that  family  traditions  are  handed 
down  to  posterity  in  a  style  hitherto  unknown  and  unattempted. 
This  flourishing  trade  is  the  due  result  of  wise  forethought  on  the 
part  of  the  British  Government,  when  it  received  the  Huguenot 
exiles  who  had  been  driven  from  their  native  land  by  the  power 
of  priestly  ignorance  and  fanaticism.  They  were  given  a  patent 
for  conducting  the  linen  manufacture  according  to  the  custom  of 
their  own  country  ;  and  not  only  that,  but  their  pastor,  whom  they 
brought  with  them,  was  supported  by  an  annual  grant  from  the 
treasury,  though  he  did  not  belong  to  the  Established  Church. 
The  virtuous  conduct  and  civilized  manners  of  those  worthy  people 
were  of  great  advantage  to  the  place.  Their  skill  and  industry 
set  an  example  to  those  who  were  engaged  in  the  same  business, 
which  soon  had  the  effect  of  raising  the  quality  of  their  manufac- 
ture to  a  degree  of  excellence  till  then  unknown.  It  is  rather 
strange  that  the  names  of  only  four  of  the  refugees  are  to  be  foimd 
at  the  present  time  in  that  locality,  viz.  :  Crommelin,  DeLache- 
rois,  Gayer  and  Dubourdieu.  To  the  first- mentioned  the  patent 
was  granted  :  the  third  was  sexton  of  the  church,  and  the  fourth 
was  the  name  of  the  pastor,  the  Rev.  Samourez  Dubourdieu.  The 
writer  recollects  seeing  some  of  the  descendants  of  those  just  men- 
tioned ;  amongst  them  was  one  bearing  the  full  name  of  the 
pastor. 

Irishmen — Protestant  Irishmen  :  You  men — the  tnie  men — 
the  sons  of '88 — who  never  turned  your  backs  to  friend  or  foe — 
whose  names  are  recorded  on  the  brightest  pages  of  Britain's  his- 


12  IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS. 

tory,  and  whose  noble  acts  appear  in  bold  relief,  on  the  highest 
column  of  human  renown  Your  military  prowess  is  well  repre- 
sented by  the  Enniskillen  Dragoons,  who  first  volunteered  in 
1688,  and  after  many  decisive  engagements  in  which  the  enemy 
was  defeated,  they  waved  their  flag  of  victory  in  company  with 
the  Iluguencts  on  the  beautiful  banks  of  the  Boyne.  Coming  far 
ther  down  the  stream  of  time,  we  find  them  on  the  bloody  but 
decisive  field  of  Waterloo,  with  their  ancestral  countrymen,  the 
Soots  Grays,  where  they  charged  victoriously  the  mail-clad 
warriors  of  France,  Napoleon's  cuirassiers.  In  more  recent  times 
we  see  them  at  the  gallant  charge  of  Balaklava,  where  they  gallopped 
through  a  dense  body  of  the  Muscovite  cavalry,  five  times  their 
number,  of  which  the  London  Times  Correspondent  remarks : 
"  The  inspiriting  cheer  of  the  Scots  Grays,and  the  wild  shouts  of 
the  Enniskilleners  rang  through  the  air  as  they  dashed  into  the 
ranks  of  the  enemy. 

"It  was  the  fight  of  heroes."  Yea,  a  revival  of  the  Ossianic 
days  by  the  descendants  of  the  Ossianic  heroes,  the  sons  of  "<Sbo- 
tia  Major'^  (Ireland)  and  "  Scotia  Minor'^  (Scotland.)  As  an  in- 
stance of  which  may  be  cited,  the  Enniskillen  Dragoon  Captain, 
who  killed  over  twelve  of  the  enemy  by  the  sword  alone.  Our 
brethren  who  fell  in  battle  (some  of  whom  were  found  among  the 
dead,  with  the  Orange  scarf  around  them)  shall  not  die  unknown 
to  fame,  for  the  sons  of  generations  yet  to  come,  will  speak  with 
due  ancestral  pride  of  the  chivalric  heroism  displayed  by  the  old 
British  Islanders — the  colonizers  of  the  world.  The  names  of  Al- 
ma, and  the  twice-told  Spartan  band  of  Balaklava — the  Light 
Brigade,  who  charged  through  the  "  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death  !  "  The  old  Gaelic  rock,  against  which  dashed  without  ef- 
fect the  unbroken  waves  of  the  Don  Cossack  !  The  gallant  deeds 
of  Inkermann,  before  which  pales  the  splendor  of  Cressy,  Agincourt, 
and  Waterloo.  Those  men  who  now  sleep  the  sleep  of  death  be- 
neath the  cold  Crimean  soil,  and  of  whom  the  great  Kossuth  has 
well  said  :  "  The  world  admires,  and  Great  Britain  bewails,"  have 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  i'i 

left  a  name  and  fame  behind  them,  that  shall  descend  to  the 
latest  posterity,  animating  by  their  bright  example,  the  warriors 
of  coming  ages. 

Protestant  Irishmen  :  Steady  adherence  to  principle  has  ev- 
er formed  a  distinguished  trait  in  your  national  history.  It  has 
not  been  the  result  of  fitful  emotion  or  momentary  impulse  carried 
on  through  a  spirit  of  antagonism.  A  higher  and  holier  motive 
has  characterized  your  course  of  action.  The  popularity  of  any 
movement  has  not  led  you  to  an  adoption  of  its  principles ;  nei- 
ther has  its  popularity  caused  you  to  reject  them.  With  you, 
truth  has  been  prized  for  its  own  inherent  excellence,  and  not  from 
the  garb  in  which  it  may  have  been  forced  to  appear.  You 
have  defended  the  cause  of  truth  in  days  gone  by,  not  as  a  mat- 
ter of  interest,  but  from  a  love  of  noble  principle. 

When  the  troubled  waters  of  Torbay  bore  on  their  heaving 
bosom  the  illustrious  Prince  of.  Orange,  and  Englishmen  received 
him  coldly,  for  they  feared  the  consequences,  you,  Protestant 
Irishmen,  received  him  afterwards  at  Bangor  on  the  iron-bound 
coast  of  Ulster  with  a  cead  mille  failthe — (a  hundred  thousand 
welcomse  ;)  for  on  his  banner  was  inscribed  Je  maintandrai — "I 
will  maintain  the  liberties  of  England.  Concur  with  us  in  our  de- 
sire to  secure  these  nations  from  Popery  and  Slavery."  As  in 
the  days  that  are  past,  you  were  instrumental  in  overthrowing  the 
despotism  which  then  ruled  in  Great  Britain;  so,  by  a  steady 
adherence  to  the  same  principles,  you  and  your  descendants  may 
yet  act  a  similar  part  in  defending  the  liberties  of  this  country. 
The  day  may  not  be  far  distant  when  Popery — that  ancient  enemy 
»f  civil  and  religious  liberty — will  openly  assail  the  rights  of  free- 
born  men.  It  has  done  so  before ;  and  if  Americans  would  only 
keep  quiet  and  "tolerate"  the  system,  it  would  be  perfectly  will- 
ing to  do  so  again.  At  present  it  is  only  waiting  until  a  more 
favorable  opportunity  shall   occur. 

In  the  meanwhile,  be  always  ready  to  meet  the  foe  ;  let  the 
counsels  of  your  fathers  be  forever  entwined  around  the  tendrils 
of  fondest  recollection ;   and  let  not  the  memories  ot  other  years 


14  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

pass  along  the  stream  of  time  into  the  dull  sea  of  forgetfulness. 
I  speak  advisedly  to  the  sons  of  men  whose  broad  swords  and 
green  graves,  are  in  their  island  home  beyond  the  sea.  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  say  that  you  have  heard  with  your 
ears,  and  your  fathers  have  declared  unto  you  the  abominations  ot 
Popery,  that  were  committed  in  their  time,  (1798)  and  in  the  old 
time  which  went  before  them.  (1641.) 

Protestant  fellow-countrymen  : — Nearly  every  class  of  for- 
eigners in  this  country  have  a  representative  society  ;  we  have 
none.  Englishmen  have  the  St.  George's  Society  ;  Welchmen, 
the  St.  David's  Society  ;  Scotchmen,  the  St.  Andrew's  Society  ; 
Irish  Romanists,  the  St.  Patrick's  Society  ;  Dutchmen,  the  St. 
Nicholas'  Society  ;  Frenchmen,  Germans,  Italians,  Canadians,  New 
Englanders,  are  all  represented  by  exclusive  organizations.  In 
these  there  is  no  harm  so  long  as  they  are  conducted  in  the  pro- 
per sphere  to  which  they  naturally  belong — that  is,  non-political , 
The  main  object  of  all  societies  of  this  kind  should  be  to  promote 
literary  or  benevolent  plans  of  action  for  mutual  benefit ;  they 
should  look  after  the  general  welfare,  eriSourage  the  literature, 
and  elevate  the  moral  standard  of  those  whom  they  represent. 
In  this  way  they  are  useful,  not  only  to  themselves,  but  to  all 
those  with  whom  they  may  come  in  contact.  When  politics  are 
introduced  into  such  associations,  and  become  identified  with 
them,  there  arises,  as  a  matter  of  course,  a  spirit  of  antagonism  in 
those  to  whom  they  are  opposed,  which  is  not  at  any  time  desi- 
rable for  the  peace  or  welfare  of  an  immigrant  population.  The 
first  and  great  commandment  for  all  foreigners  to  learn,  is  obe- 
dience to  the  established  laws  of  the  country  in  which  they  may 
reside.  Whenever  they  mingle  in  politics,  they  generally 
wind  up  with  becoming  the  fag-end  of  some  designing  political 
party  whose  wire-pulling  propensities  are  fully  equal  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  dupes  on  whom  they  operate.  The  party  which  have 
least  reliance  on  the  merits  of  their  cause  with  the  native  popula- 
tion, will,  as  a  matter  of  course,  be  most  cringing  to  foreignism — 
not  necessarily  to  advance  it,  but  merely  to  use  it  as  a  ladder  on 


IRISH    PROTEST AKT    LETTERS.  15 

which  they  may  advance  themselves  above  those  who  have  the 
honor  to  make  no  such  appeals.  Of  such  characters  I  shall  say  no 
more  ;  they  are  living  epistles  known  and  read  of  all  men.  Their 
head-quarters,  a  friend  has  just  informed  me,  can  be  discerned  in 
fine  weather,  without  the  aid  of  a  telescope,  by  the  weary  travel- 
ler who  exchanges  the  shady  groves  and  jetting  fountain  of  the 
Park  for  the  pleasures  of  the  Bowery. 

I  now  leave  with  you  the  project  of  forming  an  association  of 
the  kind  just  mentioned,  hoping  that  it  may  meet  with  your  fa- 
vorable attention.  Such  an  one  is  much  wanting  amongst  the 
great  body  of  our  countrymen  at  present  in  the  United  States. 
The  words  of  the  immortal  Hampden  (adopted  as  the  motto  of 
the  Dublin  Protestant  Association)  are  well  worthy  of  receiving 
practical  attention  in  this  age  of  self-complacency — *'  Protestant- 
ism is  looked  upon  as  a  word  honorable,  and  not  only  the  word, 
but  the  thing  to  the  last  drop  of  blood." 


16  IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS. 


Letter  I. 
John  Mitchel  and   True  Irishmen^ 
[The  following  communication  was  addressed  to  the  Editor 
of  the  New  York  Daily  Times^  but  was  rejected  from  grounds  of 
policy. — Ed.  JVeio  York  True  American,  May  20, 1854.] 

Editor  of  the  N.  Y.  Daily  Times. — Dear  Sir .  As  an  "  Irish- 
man under  forty,"  and  if  it  please  John  Mitchel  better,  under 
thirty — yea,  under  twenty-five,  I  address  this  note  to  you,  as  I 
have  seen  in  your  paper  an  article  copied  from  a  late  number  ot 
the  Citizen,  in  which  I  found  myself  collectively  addressed  by  the 
person  who  wrote  said  article.  After  going  through  the  usual 
stereotyped  abuse  of  England,  adopted  by  such  vitriol-bottle  "pa- 
triots" as  the  Editor  of  said  paper,  among  other  words  he  has  the 
following :  "  The  British  institutions  of  Famine  and  Fever"  as 
though  they  formed  part  of  the  National  Budget,  thereby  divest- 
ing them  of  all  the  character  of  being  dispensations  of  Providence. 
After  passing  on,  I  find  him  saying  again,  "  Trusting  there  are 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  young  men  in  Ireland,  whose  cheeks 
flush  with  secret  passion,  when  they  think  of  their  country's  lowly 
condition,  and  who  statedly  curse  in  their  prayers  the  felonious 
Union  Jack.  I  address  myself  to  them  alone."  Now,  sir,  I  most 
emphatically  repudiate  and  reject  all  such  advice  from  such  reck- 
less characters  as  what  he  has  been  and  still  continues.  In  Dub- 
lin, my  native,  city,  his  military  tactics  were  barricades  for  men, 
and  vitriol-bottles  for  the  women.  Since  his  arrival  here,  I  find 
he  has  rather  improved  in  that  line ;  for  he  says  that  if  it  could  be 

had  he  would  use  hell-fire  to  destroy  the  enemy.     Now,  all  such 
boasting  is  vain,  as  it  serves  no  purpose  but  to  show  the  world 

what  hellish   notions  have  taken  possession  of  the  poor  man's 

brain,       were  it  unfortunately  in  his  power  to  execute,  but  hap 

pily  for  the  peace  of  society,  and  the  welfare  of  Ireland  in  partic 

ular,  it  is  utterly  out  of  the  power  of  all  such  to  reduce  their  thea 

ries  to  practice. 


IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS,  17 

I  am  really  at  a  loss  how  to  account  for  the  "  Maiden  City" 
producing  such  a  man-  He  may,  perhaps,  have  been  changed  by 
the  freaks  of  some  malicious  "  fayry,"  for  he  is  not  a  politically  le- 
gitimate son  of  the  immortal  city  of  the  '•  Prentice  Boys,"  whose 
fame  rings  in  each  Orangeman's  ears,  which  Erin's  hills  have  heard, 
and  heard  too,  have  her  Celtic  foes. 

In  the  Times  of  the  28th  March,  I  find  an  editorial,  headed 
"  England  and  the  Irish,"  in  which  you  say  it  is  all  very  well  for 
isolated  Protestant  Irishmen  to  deny  that  they  cherish  any 
feeling  of  hostility  towards  England,"  &c.  Now,  sir,  1  feel  most 
happy  to  inform  you  that  in  Ireland  we  are  noi  insolated,  but  are 
a  body  of  three  millions  strong,  men,  women  and  children,  while 
our  "natural  enemies."  the  priest-ridden  and  "willingly  ignorant" 
popish  celts,  such  as  you  may  see  landing  every  day,  are  not  more 
than  three  and  a  half  million,  and  that  of  the  lowest  and  most  de- 
based stamp.  As  they  clear  out,  the  country  gradually  rises  in 
the  scale  of  nations  ;  their  places  are  now  being  filled  by  another 
element  composed  of  the  Protestant  "  Saxon,"  and  "  Scot,"  noted 
for  their  steadiness,  industry  and  sobriety.  In  Ireland,  we  have 
two  hundred  thousand  men  banded  together  for  the  defence  of  the 
Protestant  faith,  when  occasion  demands.  Would  to  God  that 
such  a  body  had  been  in  existence  in  1641,  and  the  massacre  of 
two  hundred  thousand  inoffensive  English  and  Scotch  settlers 
would  not  have  occurred. 

Sir,  if  you  had  been  present  with  me  at  the  beautiful  town  of 
Lisburn,  so  delightfully  situated  beside  the  river  Lagan,  which  sep- 
arates the  counties  of  Antrim  and  Down,  (where,  if  Burns  had 
lived  would  have  been  immortalized  in  song,)  you  would  have 
seen  an  Orange  procession  of  eighty  thousand  men,  on  the  12th 
of  July,  1848,  as  they  passed  in  review  through  that  town  on  their 
way  to  the  residence  of  the  late  James  Watson,  Esq.,  Justice  of 
the  Peace,  and  Deputy  Lieutenant  of  the  county  of  Antrim,  a 
cousin  of  the  writer's  father,  and  the  County  Grand  Master  of  the 
Orangemen.  You  would  not  then  speak  of  "  isolated  Protestants," 
but  rather  the  reverse,  when  you  would  see  that  their  objects  were 


18  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

happy  homes  and  altars  free.  '•  Union  now  and  forever,"  with 
England,  and  prosperity  to  the  tri-une  island  Empire,  and  peace 
and  prosperity  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  all  over  the  world,  wheth- 
er they  be  Monarchical  or  Republican. 

I  am  an  Irish  Presbyterian  Covenanter,  descended  from  the 
men  whose  blood  crimsoned  the  Dee  and  Clyde,  as  well  as  the 
heather  of  the  Pentland  Hills  in  Scotland  in  defence  of  civil  and  re- 
ligious liberty,  when  they  threw  off  the  yoke  of  the  perjured  and 
faithless  House  of  Stuart  by  declaring  that  "  we  do  disown  the 
said  Charles  Stuart  from  reigning  or  rather  tyrannizing  over  us," 
in  the  Sanquhar  "  Declaration  of  Independence,"  down,  to  where 
an  ancestor  of  mine,  a  widow  with  an  only  son  ot  fifteen,  left  the 
land  of  her  fathers  to  escape  the  military  despotism  that  then 
ruled  in  that  country  under  Claverhouse,  and  came  to  Ireland,  but 
it  was  only  flying  from  the  hands  of  prelacy  to  fall  into  that  of 
the  most  bigoted  and  blood-thirsty  Irish  papists,  to  be  driven  with 
thirty  thousand  others  of  the  defenceless  Irish  Protestants,  who 
were  robbed,  and  then  driven  from  their  homes  to  be  massacred 
in  the  open  fields  by  the  Irish  kerns  and  gallow-glasses,  with  whom 
the  name  of  Protestant  became  the  password  to  the  grave.  These 
"  wild  Irish  "  formed  the  cowardly  army  (i.  e.  in  regular  action) 
of  the  perjured  James  II.,  when  Marshall  Rosen,  the  French  Gen- 
eral, told  his  men  to  go  bring  him  Derry  stone  by  stone,  at  the 
famous  seige  of  1688, 

Imagine  the  proud  and  naturally  chivalric  sons  of  France 
amalgamated  with  the  blood  thirsty  Irish  approaching  Derry's 
gates.  Confusion  reigns  within,  for  a  traitor  has  a  seat  in  the 
Council — one  Lundy,  from  whom  perhaps,  Mitchel  has  been  study- 
ing, in  order  to  make  his  country  either  a  Romish  Rupublic  with  the 
Pope  as  perpetual  President,  or  a  French  Colony;  they  waver-they 
halt,  but  the  foe  advances.  What  inspirited  cheer  is  that  which 
bursts  upon  the  ear  ?  'Tis  "  No  Surrender  !''  Whose  bold 
hands  are  those  that  close  the  gates — aye,  and  slam  them  in  the 
tyrant's  face  1  And  another  "  No  Surrender  !"  makes  the  welkin 
ring.     'Twas  from  the  gallant  "  Prentice  Boys,"  who  acted  when 


IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  19 

ftction  was  required — then  manned  the  walls,  and  shouted  "No 
Surrender !"  and  by  their  -neans  the  city  was  preserved.  The 
siege  was  long  and  weary,  until  not  a  live  rat  was  left ;  wheft  the 
Dartmouth  spread  her  snow-white  sail,  her  purple  pendant  flying, 
she  broke  the  boom  laid  across  the  Foyle,  and  brought  relief  to 
the  '  Maiden  city,'  but  not  until  many  had  perished,  for  the  old 
man  and  the  babe  all  died  together. 

They  did  not  as  your  "  Kenraare  "  correspondent  states  of 
some  of  his  countrymen,  during  the  Irish  famine  in  1848,  eat  their 
children.     Such  barbarity  does  not  exist  among  a  civilized  people. 

R.  R.  B.  Dublin. 


Letter  II. 

John  Mitchel  and  the  Invasion  of  Canada.  — The  position  of  the 
fonaer   ,.-l''i    regard  to  the  "  Irish  "   or  popish  party. — Tkeir 
leaders. — 0' Meagher  and    Mitchel.  — The   New    York  ''Irish 
Universal  Civil  and  Military  Republican  Union  "    under  Presi- 
dent O'Malley. 

Thos.  Picton  Esq. 

Editor  of  theTrue  American. 
Dear  Sir  : — Your  having  had  the  kindness  to  publish  my  for- 
mer communication  addressed  to  the  iV.  Y.  Daily  Times^  contain- 
ing some  facts  for  the  information  of  that  Journal  and  its  sapient 
friend,  John  Mitchel,  the  Irish  veteran  "  Patriot  "  of  1848,  has  in- 
duced me  to  write  the  following: 

The  Daily  Times,  not  long  since,  as  you  may  be  aware, 
started  the  idea  of  an  invasion  of  Canada,  not  by  Americans,  but 
by  a  party  of  Irishmen,  who  were,  of  course,  desirous  of  extend- 
ing the  "  area  of  freedom,^^  and  particluarly  so,  under  their  gallant 
leader,  whose  daily  aspirations  are,  that  he  may  yet  live  to  have 


m  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

tke  **fat  plantation  well  stocked,"  down  South,  where  he  can  sing 

to  the  tune  of 

"  Oh,  Duffy,  don't  you  cry  for  me, 

I'm  going  to  Alabama  with  the  'Citizen'  on  my  knee !" 

$o  the  no  small  joy  of  his  friends.  When  that  happy  period  shall 
arrive  which  his  fertile  imagination  seems  to  have  presented  be- 
fore him  as  one  of  the  golden  apples  of  freedom,  he  will  then  be 
in  a  position  to  form  a  Black  Guard,  himself  to  be  their  Chief ; 
tiiey  will  form  the  van  of  his  invincible  army,  he  then  can  gather 
liis  Milesian  countrymen  (papists  of  course)  the  hewers  of  wood 
and  drawers  of  water  from  Maine  to  Texas ;  with  these  he  can 
Biaroh  for  Canada,  duly  equipped  with  the  "  best  imported''shille- 
lighs  and  pikes  and  also  two  quart  bottles  in  each  knapsack  filled 
Mspeetively  with  whiskey  and  vitriol.  After  having  crossed  the 
aoodern  Rubicon,  he  will  then  be  met  by  a  certain  class  of  "stolen 
jpioperty  "  having  the  gift  of  human  speech,  who  will  come  out 
with  songs  of  rejoicing  to  welcome  their  great  deliverer  from 
*^ritish  tyranny  "  to  the  air  of 

•' See  the  conquering  Hero  comes" 

or, 

"  Hail  to  the  Chief  who  in  triumph  advances." 

After  the  annexation  has  been  settled  and  the  enemy  anni- 
lulated,  he  can  then  gather  the  remaining  Heroes  of  Ballingarry  and 
liie  Veterans  of  the  Cabbage-Garden  campaign :  and  when  sur- 
Mwanded  by  those  modern  "  Gh-eeF^  Spartans  he  shall  then  have  h 
Boblc  opportunity  of  forming  a  new  Thermopylae  in  the  world's 
Wstory  by  striking  one  decisive  blow  which  shall  annihilate  the 
^Sassenach^^  or  Anglo-Saxon  race  in  Ireland  a  la  1641. 

However,  to  speak  seriously,  Mitchel  is  not  the  real  leader 
af  even  the  Irish  papists  who  have  sworn  allegiance  to  the  tempo- 
lal  and  spiritual  despot  that  sits  on  the  seven  hills  (wonderfully 
aapported  by  seven  thousand  French  bayonets)  as  the  legal  suc- 
tiessor  of  Hildebrand,  and  who  attempts  to  rule  the  world  by  that 
infernal  Order  blasphemously  called  the  "  Society  of  Jesus,"  of 
v]M>m  Thomas  Brown,  the  first  Reformed  Archbishop  of  Dublin 
^ary  quaintly  and  wisely  said  "  They  go  not  with  Jesus  who  go 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  21 

■with  the  Jesuits."  The  Irish  papists  are  told  by  their  "  Church" 
that  Mitehel  must  be  on  the  way  to  damnation,  by  being  a  "  vile 
heretic"  "  outside  the  pale"  and  their  only  object  in  using  him  at 
all  is  as  a  tool  whereby  they  may  overthrow,  if  possible,  the  noble 
Protestant  British  Nation,  and  on  its  ruins  build  papal  suprem- 
acy in  things  both  temporal  and  spiritual.  The  Freeman's  Jour- 
nal says  that  "  he  is  a  man  who  never  takes  advice  ;  no,  not  by 
any  means,"  meaning  of  course  that  he  is  not  a  sufficiently  pliant 
tool  of  the  Jesuits ;  he,  however,  is  willing  to  go  a  great  length 
for  them  as  he  says  that  he  "  finds  in  them  a  fund  of  inextinguish- 
able hatred  to  the  British  Government. "  True !  but  why  is  it 
so  %  Because  it  has  served  as  the  greatest  barrier  against  popery 
in  Europe,  and  even  the  world.  The  Jesuits  have  the  greatest  re- 
spect for  the  crowned  heads  of  Austria  and  Naples,,  the  greatest 
and  pettiest  despots  in  the  world. 

The  Irish  Papists  appear  now  to  have  given  up  the  task  as 
rather  hopeless  to  suppress  freedom  of  speech  in  this  free  country. 
They  began  a  little  too  soon,  and  were  obliged  to  give  it  over  be- 
fore they  had  expected  to  do  so.  Brownson,  the  popish  champion 
of  the  United  States,  repudiates  them  for  bringing  foreignism  into 
the  country,  although  he  well  knows  that  it  is  only  the  practical 
outworking  of  the  system  to  which  en  passant  he  has  allied  him- 
self. 

Mitehel  has  recently  turned  stag  on  the  Romish  priests  and 
their  organs,  the  editors  of  which,  he  says,  are  "  not  personally 
worth  shooting,"  while  his  "  compatriot,"  O'Meagher,  as  he  called 
himself,  on  his  outward  bound  voyage  at  his  country's  expense,  a 
man  who  was  educated  at  the  Jesuit  college  of  Stoney hurst,  Lan- 
cashire, England,  has  thought  some  of  them,  at  least,  worth  cow- 
hiding.  See  recent  accounts  of  the  difficulty  between  the  afore- 
said Mr.  O'Meagher  and  Mr.  McMasters.  It  reminds  me  of  the 
old  verse  commencing : 

"  Per  0  atque  Mac  veros  cognoscis  Hibernoa 
His  duobus  demptis  nullis  Hibemus  adest." 


22  IRISH    PROTESTAKT   LETTERS. 

Which  has  been  thus  freely  rendered : 

By  Mc  and  0  you'll  surely  know 

True  Irishmen  they  say, 
But  if  they  lack  both  0  and  Mo 

No  Irishmen  are  they !" 

It  is  really  very  ungrateful  for  Mitchel  to  throw  aside  his 
former  patrons  in  that  manner,  when  it  was  to  them  that  he  prin- 
cipally owed  his  political  advancement  as  their  quandom  leader, 
f  John,  New  York,  sending  over  $500  towards  revolutionizing 
Ireland.  But  as  he  is  now  in  a  free  country,  he  thinks  he  can  get 
along  better  without  their  assistance  than  with  it ;  of  which  no 
doubt  he  can  on  his  own  account,  but  not  as  an  Irish  leader.  In 
the  meanwhile  perhaps  they  may  own  : 

"  He  was  right  to  dissemble  his  love 
But  why  did  he  kick  them  down  stairs." 

He  has  recently  shown  some  smartness,  by  endeavoring  to 

cause  one  object  to  have  the  appearance  of  two ;  in  other  words 

to  make  two  Popes  out  of  one,  viz :     A  temporal  and  a  spiritual. 

Such  a  statement  may  pass  with  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of 

seeing  double,  either  under  the  spiritual  influence  of  Hughes  or 
Monongahela,  but  not  with  any  one  who  looks  with  a  single  eye 

to  passing  events.    It  reminds   me  forcibly   of  a  story  told  of  an 

honest  peasant  who  felt   considerable   alarm   for  the  safety  of  a 

bishop's  soul.     The  bishop  was  a  sovereign  prince,  and  lived   in 

great  pomp  and  splendor. 

The  countryman  believed  there  was  but  one  rule  of  faith  and 
practice,  he  could  not  therefore  get  down  the  regal  pomp  and 
magnificence  by  which  he  believed  the  soul  of  the  bishop  was  en- 
iangered,  when  he  unbosomed  his  anxiety  to  the  princely  eccle- 
siastic who  said,  ''Be  not  alarmed,  my  pious  friend,  for  the  safety 
of  my  soul.  The  magnificence  which  you  see  does  not  attach  to 
my  character  as  a  Christian  Bishop,  but  only  to  my  rank  and  office, 
as  an  earthly  prince."  "  Ah  !"  said  the  poor  pious  man,  shaking 
his  head,.  "  it  may  be  so,  but  when  the  prince  goes  to  keJl,  what 
will  become  of  the  bishop  1"     Can  Mitchel  inform  the  public  ? 

I  see  there  has  been  a  meeting  lately  held,  of  a  society  call- 
ing itself  "the  Irish  Universal  Civil  and  Military  Republican  Union;" 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  23 

having  for  its  supposed  object,  the  extension  of  Republican  Free- 
dom, but  in  reality,  it  is  only  the  tool  of  the  popish  priestcraft 
and  will  accordingly  be  used  as  such,  either  in  this  country  or  at 
the  other  side,  in  case  they  should  fail  here.  Their  intentions  are, 
so  far  as  Ireland  is  concerned,  to  efFe^'t,  if  possible,  a  separation 
from  Protestant  England,  the  only  bulwark  of  liberty  in  Europe 
at  the  present  day  ;  and  if  this  could  be  accomplished,  they  would 
then  (as  all  their  antecedents  show)  use  the  civil  power  for  the 
propagation  of  popery  over  the  face  of  that  fair  land,  until  it  should 
be  reduced  to  that  degraded  condition  which  has  so  long  marked 
the  popish  provinces  of  Connaught  and  Munster,  and  even  proud, 
Albion  in  her  popish  days,  when  Englishmen  worshipped  the  tail  of 
an  ass,  and  were  excommunicated  for  clipping  the  tail  of  a  horse 
without  clerical  authority,  in  the  days  of  Henry  the  Second,  who 
by  the  civil  power  carried  popery  into  Ireland.  Such  was  the 
state  of  affairs  in  Saxon  England,  during  the  Episcopate  of  the 
literal  Saxon  Saracen,  Thomas  a'Becket,  Lord  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury ;  who  even  excommunicated  men  for  speaking 
against  him  in  those  halcyon  days  of  popish  rule.  That  individ- 
ual now  hangs  on  the  Bomish  calendar  as  a  saint  of  the  first 
water  ! 

Under  the  same  system,  in  the  reign  of  King  John,  dental 
operations  were  performed  by  royal  authority  on  a  certain  Jew 
of  Bristol,  who  permitted  seven  teeth  to  be  extracted  before  pay- 
ing an  arbitrary  fine  of  10,000  marks,  which  had  been  levied  on 
him  by  the  King,  who  had  just  previously  sworn  in  the  most 
abject  manner  to  the  papal  Nuncio,  that  he  would  only  hold 
Britannia's  Isle,  as  the  pope's  vassal  forever  by  a  payment  of  1000 
marks  annually  to  the  reigning  Pope.  The  Jew,  however,  who 
lost  both  his  teeth  and  money  for  the  good  of  the  "  Church,"  was 
not  so  bad  a  case-after  all  as  multitudes  of  his  brethren  were,  that 
were  burned  in  York  Castle  during  the  same  reign  on  account  of 
their  belief.  However,  to  return  to  this  wonderful  body  just  come 
into  existence,  with  a  mushroom  growth,  and  to  which  has  been 
given  a  very  long  name,  viz  :  "  The  Irishmen's  Universal  Cvil  and 


24  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

Military  Republican  Union."  I  find  it  has  been  duly  reported  by 
one  of  its  fr-iends  of  the  N.  Y.  Daily  Times  ;  according  to  the  re- 
port,it  was  presided  over  by  an  individual  of  the  masculine  name 
of  Molloy,  or  perhaps  it  should  be  O'Molloy,  some  distant  rela- 
tion of  Charles  O'Malley,  the  renowned  Irish  Dragoon.  In  his  re- 
ported address,  after  putting  one  of  Emmett's  figures  of  speech 
to  a  horrible  death  by  the  most  refined  cruelty,  he  winds  up 
with  the  assertion  that  there  shall  be  one  of  the  bloodiest  revolu- 
tions in  Ireland,  which  that  country  has  ever  yet  seen,  and  that  it 
shall  be  accomplished  by  the  aid  of  a  hundred  thousand  Irishmen 
armed  in  this  country  for  that  specific  purpose.  The  precedents 
of  1641  and  1798  are  to  be  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  this 
mighty  effort. 

After  the  departure  of  this  Quixotic  band  of  filibusters  for 
Erin  ard  innis  na  Righ,  the  U.  S.  Congress  Hall  should  be  draped 
in  mourning  and  business  generally  suspended  for  a  week,  on  ac- 
count of  the  public  loss  sustained  by  the  removal  of  so  many 
"  better  citizens,"  who  are  the  bulwark  of  this  Republic,  and  if 
they  remained,  the  pledge  of  its  future  unrivalled  greatness.  It 
now  remains  with  the  native  citizens  to  see  whether  they  are  fully 
prepared  to  meet  such  a  drain  from  the  military  resources  of  the 
Union,  as  the  one  now  under  contemplation  ;  for  if  once  gone  they 
shall  never  return — Britannia  and  Neptune  having  fully  agreed 
to  take  them  in  charge  for  the  remainder  of  their  natural  lives. 
If  such  were  not  the  case,  I  reckon  that  there  are  as  many  men  in 
New  York  city,  both  Orange  aud  Blue,  as  could  charter  and  man 
one,(no  more  being  necessary,)  of  Uncle  Sam's  A.  I.  O.  K.  steam- 
ers, and  tow  the  whole  concern,  after  allowing  them  one  good  Kil- 
kenny fight,  off  Sandy  Hook,  either  into  Mitchel's  native   Derry ; 

Where  Foyle  his  swelling  waters 

Rolls  northward  to  the  main, 
And  tells  of  days  of  dauntless  note, 

And  Derry's  deathless  fame,"  &e. 

into  Belfast  Lough,  or  Dublin  Bay,  just  as  convenience  might 
dictate,  and  then  leave  them  all  in  charge  of  the  proper  authori- 
ties, to  be  dealt  with  as  he,  that  was  often  reproved  and  hardened 
his  neck. 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTBRS. 


letter  m. 


Influence  of  Jesuitism  on  American  •politics — Political  Jbreigners 
and  their  antecedents — The  Naturalization  laws  and  their  great 
convenience  for  the  naturalization  of  popery  in  the  United 
States. 

The  chief  aim  of  the  Jesuits,  after  working  all  they  can  at  the 
noble  Constitution  of  1688,  is  to  undermine,  (they  being  the  "sa^ 
pers  and  miners  "  of  popery)  and  destroy  popularity  by  corrup- 
tion the  glorious  Constitution  of  1776.  They  know  how  to  At- 
tack objectionable  Eepublics,  as  well  as  Monarchies,  in  order  t» 
bring  all  under  the  temporal  power  of  their  master,  whom  thejr 
consider  as  the  legitimate  Ruler  of  the  world,  calling  him,  "  Our 
Lord  God,  the  Pope,"  also  "Vicegerent  of  Christ  on  earth,"  axA 
that  all  the  ends  of  the  world  should  fear  him.  Such  ideas  are,  of 
course,  fatal  to  any  free  and  independent  country.  Therefore  let 
the  Reformed  Anglo-Saxon  and  Celtic  race  now  indissolubly  united 
by  the  glorious  Reformation,  beware,  for  their  greatest  enemies 
are  the  Jesuits,  Let  Americans,  particularly  remember  the  pro- 
phetic words  of  the  wise  La  Fayette,  when  he  exclaimed,  "  If  ev- 
er the  liberties  of  this  Republic  are  destroyed,  it  will  be  through 
the  machinations  of  Romish  Priests,"  and  the  sage  advice  of  that 
eminent  statesman,  Jefferson,  of  Monticello,  when  he  said,  "  The 
price  of  liberty  is  eternal  vigilance  ;"  and  'also  the  paternal  admo- 
nition of  the  Father  of  his  Country,  in  his  parting  address,  where 
he  said,  "  Against  the  insiduous  wiles  of  foreign  influence,  the 
jealousy  of  a  free  people  ought  to  be  constantly  awake.  It  is  one 
of  the  most  baneful  foes  of  a  Republican  Government."  How 
then  can  Americans  remain  in  that  state  of  apathetic  indifference, 
which  seems  to  characterize  a  great  proportion  of  them  at  the 
present  day,  with  those  wise  counsels  of  the  Revolutionary  Fatk- 
ers  still  echoing  in  their  ears.  When  they  see  the  serpent  cells  of 
Jesuitism  enfolding  with  its  deadly  influence  the  most  vital  part 


26  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

of  that  constitution,  which  they  have  received  as  an  inheritance 
hj  the  bravery  of  their  fathei's,  even  one  that  should  never  be 
sold.  It  is  now  attacked  by  that  serpent  which  is  as  the  deaf 
adder,  that  stoppeth  her  ear,  and  will  not  hearken  to  the  voice  ol 
(political)  charmers,  charming  never  so  wisely.  Americans  should 
be  on  their  guard  for  this  "foreign  influence"  comes  from  the  foul, 
pent  up  waters  of  the  Tiber,  where  the  sediment  of  over  twelve 
liundred  years,  moral  and  physical  despotism  has  accumulated, 
and  is  now  being  stirred  up  again  by  those  who  were  the  means 
(under  Satan)  of  causing  it  to  be  there.  It  is  now  emitting  its 
noxious  gases  as  a  political  miasma  over  all  free  countries.  As  a 
foul  atmosphere,  it  may  not  be  seen,  but  in  its  effects  it  will  be 
Jelt  to  be  most  deadly.  Therefore,  let  the  true  born  sons  of  Prot- 
estant America,  preserve  that  clear  air  of  Freedom,  by  which 
they  are  surrounded,  which  was  purified  by  seven  years  thun- 
der ,  and  that  transparent  river  of  Liberty,  which  flows  from  the 
rock  of  '76,  after  being  smitten  by  the  hand  of  Washington. 

As  a  foreigner,  it  may  appear  strange  that  I  entirely  disap- 
prove of  the  practice  legally  established,  of  giving  all  the  rights 
of  a  native  born  citizen  to  any  and  every  foreigner  who  may  chance 
to  come  along.  America  does  not  need  their  assistance  to  aid 
her  in  self-government,  she  is  perfectly  able  to  take  care  of  her- 
self. It  is  a  very  bad  system  of  policy  to  allow  any  of  them  what- 
ever to  approach  the  ballot  box,  when  America  by  an  act  patent 
to  the  world  declared  herself  free  and  independent  from  all  foreign 
powers :  yet,  strange  to  say,  she  calls  in  the  assistance  of  the  can 
aille  and  off*-scourings  of  Europe,  the  graduates  of  prisons,  peniten- 
tiaries, and  penal  colonies,  from  whence  many  of  them  have  been 
sent  by  their  overseers,  being  told  that  this  was  a  land  of  liberty, 
where  they  could  make  their  own  laws,  and  do  just  as  they  liked 
m  carrying  on  their  old  avocations. 

It  is,  with  very  few  exceptions,  the  personal  interest  of  for- 
eigners to  come  here,  and  the  idea  of  giving  them  a  stake  in  the 
welfare  of  the  country,  by  allowing  them  votes,  is  clear  moonshine, 
they  will  remain  so  long  as  it  is   their  interest  to  do  so,  but  be- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  27 

yond  that  never.  No  immigrant  whatever  should  have  any  influ- 
ence or  control  over  the  domestic  affairs  of  this  land ;  if  they  do 
not  like  the  legislation  to  which  they  may  find  themselves  subject, 
why  let  them  move  on  to  some  other  place  more  congenial  to 
their  natural  instincts  ;  but  by  no  means  give  them  the  power  to 
model  the  lawsafter  their  own  pre-conceived  notions  of  equity  or 
right. 

Foreigners,  as  a  class,  aim  only  at  putting  in  some  of  their 
own  factions,  and  when  that  fails  they  make  sure  of  the  most  cor- 
rupt American  one  existing.  There  are  of  course  exceptions  to 
every  general  rule,  and  with  regard  to  the  exclusion  of  foreigners 
from  citizenship  there  might  be  one  made  in  favor  of  any  person 
who  had  rendered  the  country  some  distinguished  service,  to  be 
determined  on  afterwards  by  the  proper  authorities,  after  which 
there  might  be  a  special  act  of  Congress  passed  in  his  favor,  ad- 
mitting him  to  the  full  enjoyment  thereof,  on  condition  of  his 
permanently  residing  in  this  country,  but  beyond  this  it  should 
never  extend. 

It  is  now  high  time  that  Americans  should  make  a  complete  al- 
teration in  their  existing  naturalization  laws,  if  they  wish  to  pre- 
serve in  their  integrity  the  principles  of  1776.  The  idea  of  swear 
ing  foreigners  against  the  different  governments  of  those  coun- 
tries from  whence  they  came,  when  perhaps  the  majority  of  them 
never  owed  allegiance  to  any  under  the  sun,  is  rather  ludicrous. 
Witness  the  confession  of  "Col."  Michael  Doheny,  ex-Adjutant 
General  to  the  forces  that  never  were  beat — for  running  away,  at 
Slieve-na-mon  and  the  Devil's  Bit  mountains  in  wild  Tipperary. 
In  an  address  to  some  of  his  kerns  last  winter,  he  said  that  he 
"  considered  it  very  strange  to  be  sworn  against  a  power  he  never 
acknowledged."  His  case  may  be  taken  for  that  of  thousands 
who  are  every  day  being  naturalized.  If  foreigners  must  be  citi- 
zenized,  why  not  make  them  disown  the  powers  they  do  acknowl- 
edge in  particular,  (if any)  instead  of  those  they  do  not?  For 
example,  Papists  never  owe  allegiance  to  any  government  which 
m  its  turn  does  not  acknowledge  the  temporal  and  spiritual  supre- 


28  IRISH    PBOTEBTANT   LETTERS. 

macy  of  the  Pope ;  they  often  pretend  to  take  oaths  of  loyalty  to 
the  State  in  which  they  may  live,  but  undei  those  circumstances 
every  priest  they  meet  has  it  in  his  power  at  any  moment  to  ab- 
solve them  from  all  obligations  thereto. 

The  only  way  to  get  rid  of  this  evil,  is  by  allowing  none  of  them 
a  chance  to  perjure  themselves.  On  this  subject  the  Rev.  John 
Brown,  the  learned  Commentator,  has  the  following  appropriate 
remarks,  that  are  much  to  the  point  in  the  present  case.  "Oaths 
in  our  country,  are  almost  become  of  no  use,  with  many,  but  to 
ensnare  their  souls,,  and  dishonor  God.  None  are  readier  to  take 
them,  than  those  who  intend  to  break  them  at  the  first  opportunity*^ 
&c. 

The  two  great  classes  of  foreigners,  who  arrive  here  daily 
are  Papists,  and  Protestants,  the  former  have  a  large  majority, 
and  are  bound  by  their  sacramental  oaths,  to  uphold  the  spiritual 
and  temporal  power  of  the  Pope,  or  Prince  of  Rome,  (whose  un- 
bounded ambition,  aims  at  universal  empire,  his  motto  being  still, 
"  semper  eadum,*^)  against  all,  and  every  existing  power,   with 
which  he  may  come  into  contact ;  and  if  they  fail  to  do  so,  they 
are  fully  assured,  that   their  "  manifest   destiny"  will   without 
doubt,  be  worse,  than  the  unquenchable  fires  of  purgatory.     Pa- 
pists born  on  the  soil  are  equally  dangerous,  with  the   worst  for- 
eigners, as  they  are  bound   in  like  manner  to   uphold  the  Papal 
Supremacy,  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term;  see    Brownson's  Re- 
view and  other  ultramontane  popish  journals,  published   in  this 
country,  with  the  full  approbation  (printed  on  their  covers,)  of  the 
Roman  Hierarchy    in  America.     This  phase  of  foreignism   might 
even  be  considered  the  most  dangerous,  were  it  not  for  its  numer- 
ical weakness.     In   my  opinion,  foreigners   have  no   right   what- 
ever, to  enjoy  those  privileges,  that   naturally   belong  to  native 
citizens.     All  they  ought  to  expect  should  be  equal  rights  before 
the  law,  without  the  liberty    of  controlling  it.     The  natives  of 
any   country  that  has  been  civilized,    who   are  not,  willingly, 
under  a  temporal  or  spiritual  despotism,  may  safely  be  presumed 
to  know,  what  kind  of  laws,  are  best  suited   to  the  manners  and 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  29 

customs,  as  well  as  the  national   and   historical  position   of  the 
land  in  which  they  live  and  are  acquainted  with  from  birth. 

Protestant  foreigners,  as  a  body,  are  willing  to  forego  the 
rights  of  citizenship,  in  order  that  their  children,  in  the  first  gen- 
eration, may  by  birth,  come  into  possession  of  an  uncontaminated 
Protestant  free  Republic.  Their  position  as  a  class,  is  materi- 
ally different  from  that  of  the  Papists,  in  both  a  civil  and  a  re- 
ligious point  of  view ;  yet  still  there  may  be  a  majority  of  them 
who  inherit  as  it  were  by  birth  certain  partialities,  innocent  in 
themselves  and  perfectly  justifiable  in  the  countries  to  which  they 
belong ;  but  yet  are  unsuited  to  the  position  of  this  great  Re- 
public; for  that  reason,  and  no  other,  would  it  be  proper  to  ex- 
clude them  in  common  with  all  foreigners,  from  all  participation 
in  the  Elective  Franchise.  As  a  class  they  are  most  friendly  to 
the  Constitution  ofthis  country,  and  would  do  everything  which 
lay  in  their  power  to  preserve  it  against  all  enemies. 

Why  will  Americans  still  continue  to  leave  open  their  gates 
ot  citizenship  to  foreigners,  indiscriminately,  when  for  one  friend, 
there  are  more  than  twenty  foes  pass  in  at  the  same  time^ 
whose  object  in  doing  so  is  not  to  preserve,  but  to  betray  the  cita- 
del of  the  American  Constitution,  into  the  hands  of  that  sworn 
enemy  of  Liberty,  by  whom  they  have  been  sent  for  that  pur- 
pose, in  order  more  effectually  to  destroy  the  palladium  of  Amer- 
ican freedom?  It  is  now  high  time  that  Americans  should  close 
their  gates  against  the  enemy,  who  still  continues  to  come  in  like 
a  flood,  threatening  with  utter  destruction ,  the  very  foundation  of 
/American  principles. 


Letter  IV. 

The  American  movement  and  its  enemies — The  principle  tf  the 
American  Revolution  and  its  future  prospects — The  danger  of 
Popery  as  seen  in  its  present  appearance  and  past  history. 
I  AM  glad  to  find  by  corroborative  evidence  from  the  differ- 


30  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

ent  sections  of  this  great  Union  that  the  American  party  has 
taken  such  deep  root  in  its  own  native  soil,  and  that  from  the 
smallest  of  plants,  it  has  now  become  as  the  towering  and  majes- 
tic  oak,  beneath  whose  shadow  shall  yet  repose  in  safety,  those 
true  sons  of  Freedom,  by  whom  it  has  been   nourished. 

The  American  movement  now  presents  such  a  bold,  deter 
mined  front  to  its  combined  enemies  of  Popish  Despots,  Red  Re- 
publicans, and  Native  Traitors,  as  for  a  time,  to  have  completely 
paralyzed  their  efforts  against  it ;  they  look  as  though  they  had 
been  stunned  by  its  first  appearance — their  position  resembles 
that  of  a  gang  of  robbers  who  have  been  discovered  in  their  cave 
by  a  superior  force  vsrhile  in  the  act  of  dividing  the  prey  taken 
by  them  from  honest  men,  who  have  at  last  come  upon  them  in 
what  they  considered  their  inaccessible  retreat.  Yet  we  are  told 
that  the  men  by  whom  this  important  discovery  has  lately  been 
made,  are  all  profound  Know-Nothings.  Of  that,  however,  I  shall 
say  nothing,  but  leave  the  subject  with  a  discriminating  public, 
until  such  times  when  actions  shall  speak  louder  than  words. 

There  is  now  a  comparative  calm,  but  it  is  only  that  which 
presages  the  coming  of  a  mighty  tempest,  that  shall  uproot  the 
miserable  undergrowth  of  foreign  and  domestic  traitors  that  sur- 
rounded, and  by  its  influence,  endeavored  to  destroy  the  noble 
tree  of  liberty. 

The  old  wire-pulling  politicians  are  now  beginning  to  cast 
down  their  nets  into  the  sea  of  American  freedom ;  but  they 
might  as  well  save  themselves  the  trouble,  and  hold  on  to  the 
usual  Irish  and  German  poodles,  to  which  they  have  been  hither- 
to accustomed.  After  next  November,  a  great  many  of  them 
may  be  seen  in  a  most  disconsolate  condition,  wandering  about 
the  piers  of  public  opinion,  with  the  old  cry,  "  We  have  toiled  all 
the  night  and  caught  nothing  •/'  and  very  likely  never  will  for 
their  days  are  numbered. 

The  American  Revolution  was  pre-eminently  founded  on  the 
principle  of  freedom,  but  true  liberty  itself,  is  the  abiding  essence  of 
Protestantism;  without  it  the  Revolutionary  struggle  would  have 


IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS.  31 

proved  a  complete  failure.  Had  not  the  stern  uncompromising  pa- 
triots of  1773  possessed  that  selfreliance  which  ever  characterizes 
the  enlightened  Protestant,  who  is  free  from  the  fetters  of  priest- 
craft, they  would  no  doubt  have  perished  when  they  made  their 
noble  efforts  to  deliver  their  native  land  from  the  despotism  of  a 
foreign  cabinet,  when  it  invaded  their  civil  and  political  rights,  by 
imposing  taxation  without  representation.  From  Grimke,  a  dis- 
tinguished American  orator,  I  take  the  following  extract  with  re- 
gard to  this  subject : 

"The prime  of  life  came,  and  the  principles  of  the  Reforma- 
tion taught  them  that  Independence  was  a  right  and  a  duty  when 
civil  and  political  liberty  was  invaded.  The  gordian  knot  of  col- 
onial obedience  was  severed — a  fierce  struggle  for  the  mastery 
ensued,  and  it  pleased  the  Almighty  that  the  victory  should  be 
ours.  That  victory  was  a  consequence,  however  remote —  a  tri- 
umph, however  unlocked  for,  of  the  Reformation. 

"The  spirit  of  inquiry,  first  principles,  thinking,  reasoning, 

were  the  very  essence,  the  geni\xs  of  the  Reformation  in  the  age  of 

Luther.     The  same   were  the  essence  of  the  Revolution  under 

Washington.     The  Protestant  nations  have  surpassed  all  the  rest 

of  the  European  family  in  the  depth  and  comprehensiveness,  in  the 

sublimity  and  beauty,  in  the  richness  and   variety  of  their  litera^ 

ture  and  science.     Britain,   the  guardian  angel  of  the  liberty  of 

Europe,  the  vanguard    of  civilization   and    freedom  in  the  old 

world. 

'  She  in  the  soul  of  man  her  better  wealth — 
The  richest,  nature's  noblest  produce,  she 
The  immortal  mind  in  perfect  height  and  strength 
Bears  with  a  prodigal  opulence.' 

*'  And  we,  the  only  offspring  nation  ever  bore,  worthy  of 
such  ancestry;  we  must  not— we  cannot,  we  shall  not  rest 
satisfied  with  inferiority  to  English  fame,  in  science  and  literature. 
The  spirit  of  inquiry — first  principles,  thought  and  reasoning ; 
these  are  the  causes  which,  under  circumstances,  singularly  felici- 
tous, have  made  her  in  power  and  glory,  in  wisdom  and  virtue,  in 
wealth,  happiness,  freedom  and  knowledge,  the  greatest  of  Euro- 


S2  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

pean  States,  whether  ancient  or  modern.  And  the  same  causes 
shall  enable  us  still  more  fortunate  in  situation  at  our  appointed 
day  of  meridian  excellence,  to  ascend  a  loftier  height  of  power 
and  glory — of  wisdom  and  virtue — of  wealth,  happiness,  freedom 
and  knowledge,  than  England  has  ever  attained.  She  has  accom- 
plished all  that  an  European  people,  subjects  of  a  limited  monar- 
chy can  attain,  under  the  transforming  regenerating  influence  of 
the  Reformation.  She  is  the  Rome  of  the  modem  world,  but  has 
far  excelled  the  imperial  republic  of  antiquity.  We  shall  accom- 
plish still  more  in  eff*ecting  all  that  an  American  people,  citizens 
of  a  confederacy  of  republics  can  perform,  under  the  combined  in- 
fluence of  the  Reformation  and  of  our  Revolution.  We  shall  be  the 
Greece  of  the  modern  world,  unrivalled  by  the  literature  of  three 
thousand  years.  All,  indeed,  that  the  system  of  the  Reformers 
can  bring  to  pass,  our  country,  the  holy  land  of  religious  liberty 
— the  only  promised  land  of  political  freedom,  shall  assuredly  ac- 
complish. Then  shall  our  country  be  emphatically,  pre-eminent- 
ly, the  empire  of  mind,  the  republic  of  letters." 

Such  are,  I  consider,  the  sentiments  of  all  true  Americans,  both 
with  regard  to  their  native  country,  and  of  Old  England,  the  fath- 
erland of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  New  England. 

Since  the  arrival  and  departure  of  Bedini,  the  papists  under 
clerical  directions,  have  been  making  strenuous  efforts  to  destroy 
the  liberties  of  this  (in  most  cases,)  their  adopted  country,  by 
having  nearly  all  their  "  churches"  or  mass  houses  armed,  to  be 
in  readiness  to  enact,  if  possible,  a  second  St.  Bartholomew's  day, 
when  the  bell  of  St.  Germain  shall  begin  to  toll  the  well- 
known  preconcerted  signal,  as  was  the  case  on  the  eve  of  that 
fatal  day  which  proved  so  fully  the  real  nature  of  popery. 
When  the  Pope  heard  of  it  having  occurred,  he  caused  a  solemn 
Te  Deum  to  be  sung,  and  medals  struck  off"  in  honor  of  so  glorious 
an  event.  The  affiair  was  conducted  with  the  greatest  secrecy 
until  it  had  actually  taken  place,  for  on  the  eve  of  that  day  there 
was 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  33 

"  Joy  in  the  palaces^oy  in  the  streets  ! 
Joyful  the  papist,  the  Huguenot  greets." 

But  in  the  morning  the  treacherous  smile  of  popery  had  diis- 

appeared,  and  there  was 

"  Death  in  the  palaces — death  in  the  streets, 
No  sparing  nor  mercy,  the  Huguenot  meets." 

But  be  it  known  to  all  and  singular,  that  such  practices  shall 
not  be  so  easily  carried  out  in  this  country  as  some  papists  may 
imagine,  for  there  stands  in  these  United  States  and  Canada,  a 
body  of  men  firmly  united  in  one  vast  phalanx,  and  fully  prepared 
for  the  emergencies  of  any  case  that  may  occur.  They  are  de- 
scended from  the  men  who  defended  their  rights  victoriously  in 
Piedmont,  Ley  den,  Rochelle,  Marston  Moor,  and  Naseby,  Drum- 
clog,  the  Boyne,  and  Bunker's  Hill.  They  are  now  on  this  North 
American  continent — in  the  "  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the 
brave,"  an  invincible  quadruple  alliance  of  the  old  Waldense 
Covenanter,  Puritan  and  Huguenot,  ready  to  stand  sublime,  mak- 
ing tyrants  crouch  before  them,  whether  foreign  or  domestic, 
spiritual  or  temporal. 

As  a  matter  of  sound  policy,  it  is  incumbent  on  all  who  value 
liberty,  whether  civil  or  religious,  to  keep  a  constant  watch  on  the 
movements  of  popery,  that  withering  curse  of  nations,  and  hate- 
ful cause,  whose  blighting  influence  has  laid  low  the  glory  of 
many  a  lofty  State  and  flourishing  Empire,  which  has  extinguished 
pride  and  manly  honor  and  patriotism,  stealing  like  a  bitter 
draught  the  intellect  and  the  heart,  lulling  the  mind  into  a  death 
stupor ;  verily  the  sleep  of  Circe,  which  has  enervated  the  vigor 
of  Republics,  the  fortitude  and  magnificence  of  Monarchies,  crum- 
bling at  once  into  ruin  the  traditionary  splendors  and  historic 
glory  of  Spain,  Portugal,  the  old  German  Empire,  of  Genoa,  Ven- 
ice and  Florence,  where  amid  the  licentiousness,  the  purple  crim- 
inality, and  infernal  orgies  of  the  Borgias,  despite  the  fulmina- 
tions  and  anathemas,  hurled  by  the  obscene  and  lustful  pontiflT, 
known  in  history  as  Alexander  VI,  the  voice  of  the  heroic  martyr, 
Savonarola,  the  Luther  of  the  South,  warned  the  youth  of  Italy 
from  following  the  tenets  of  papal  doctrine. 


34  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

'*  Lasciate  ogni  speranze  voi  chi  entrate" — Dante. 
Where  is  now  the  once  noble  blood  of  Castile  and  Arragon  ? 
Echo  answers  where !  But  the  voice  of  history  saith  that  it  has 
disappeared  amid  the  smoke  of  the  "  Auto  da  Fe's"  of  desolated 
Spain  and  been  destroyed  beneath  the  iron  wheel  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion Juggernaut,  even  by  that  system  which  has  degraded  the  fair 
face  of  many  an  ancient  and  noble  land  on  the  continent  and 
islands  of  Europe  and  wherever  else  it  may  have  been  permitted 
to  exist. 


Letter  V. 

Patriotism  of  Protestant  Foreigners — Sketches  of  Presh/terian  and 
Episcopalian  reminiscences. 
There  is  a  certain  principle  implanted  in  the  human  soul  by 
which  we  become  attached  to  the  land  that  gave  us  birth,  and  the 
individual  who  possesses  not  this  feeling,  is  unworthy  to  be  called 
a  man.     In  the  language  of  Sir  Walter  Scott : 

"  Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 

Who,  never  to  himself  hath  said ; 
This  is  my  own — my  native  land, 

Who^e  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  bamed 

As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned, 
From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand." 

On  these  grounds  precisely,  I  uphold  the  native  American 
movement,  inasmuch  that  I  consider  it  to  be  in  obedience  with 
the  noblest  instincts  of  our  nature.  As  a  foreigner,  I  have  no 
right  to  claim  from  the  citizens  of  this  country,  privileges  that  I 
should  feel  bound  to  deny  them  in  my  own,  on  account  of  their 
foreign  birth. 

In  the  case  of  Protestant  foreigners  who  arrive  here,  they 
are  from  the  very  nature  of  their  religious  belief,  most  friendly 
to  the  constitutional  freedom  so  fully  developed  in  this  country  ; 
but  in  the  meanwhile  you  must  not  expect,  that  even  the  mighty 
billows  of  the  broad  and  deep  Atlantic  can  wash  out  the  memory 


IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  35 

of  early  associations ;  for  even  in  death  they  return  with  all  that 
vividness  by  which  they  were  distinguished  in  the  light  of  former 
days.     Lord  Byron  in  the  dying  Gladiator,  has  the  following : 

■'  He  heard  it,  but  he  heeded  not — his  eyes 

Were  with  his  heart,  and  that  was  far  away; 
He  reck'd  not  of  the  life  he  lost  or  prize. 

But  where  his  rude  hut  by  the  Danube  lay ; 
There  were  his  young  barbarians  all  at  play — 

There  was  their  Bacian  mother ! — he  their  sire, 
Butchered  to  make  a  Boman  holiday — 

All  this  rushed  with  his  blood." 

We  are  informed  that  when  the  42nd  Regt.  Scottish  High- 
landers were  at  Buenos  Ay  res,  in  British  service,  one  of  them 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  in  that  place  on  a«count  of  the 
great  fertility  of  the  soil,  when  one  of  his  companions  hearing  of 
it  came  with  the  bagpipes,  and  without  saying  anything,  sat  down 
beside  him,  and  played  "  Lochaber  nae  mair,"  on  which  he  instant- 
ly started  to  his  feet,  exclaiming : 

"  What !  Lochaber  nae  mair !  I  maun  gang  back,"  and  back  he 
went  to  the  sterile  hills  of  Padenook  there  to  mingle  with  the 
dust  of  his  ancestors.  It  is  also  related  that  when  the  clan  of  Me 
Donald  came  to  Glengary  in  Canada,  those  hardy  weather  beaten 
men  wept  for  the  first  time,  when  they  found  that  the  mountains 
of  Canada  refused  to  grow  their  native  heather  which  they  had 
brought  with  them  for  that  purpose.  The  Scottish  Highlancier 
does  not  forget  his  "  bonnie  Highland  heither,"  and  the  old  Ingle- 
side  ;  nor  does  the  Lowlander  forget  the  land  of  the  "  thistle  and 
bonnie  blue  bell"  and  those  deeper  religious  associations  that  are 
so  intimately  connected  with  the 

*'  Land  of  brown  heath  and  shaggy  wood, 
Land  of  the  mountain  and  the  flood, 
Land  of  my  sires !" — 

The  Scottish  and  Irish  Covenanters  remember  well  the  time- 
when  perhaps  they   walked  with    a  much-loved    father,  mother, 
grandfather,  or  other  friend  to  the   House  of  Prayer,    some  old 
white  Meeting  House  with  its  neat  enclosure  and  rustic  pathway, 
locally  termed  lonin,  leading  from  the  highway  in  the  rural  dis- 


3S  IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS. 

triets  of  Antrim,  Down,  or  Derry— or  in  the  glens  and  valleys  of 
Scotland,  when  they  could  say  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist ; 

"  I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me,  let  us  go  into  the 
House  of  Lord.  Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates  O  Jerusa- 
lem." 

They  do  not  forget  that  when  leaving  home,  an  aged  father, 
«r  grandfather,  brought  forth  from  its  accustomed  place,  the  old 
and  well-used  family  Bible,  and  read  therefrom  for  the  last  time 
«tte  of  those  living  lessons  of  faith  and  practice  that  should  guide 
Ifae  wandering  footsteps  of  his  children  in  foreign  lands,  when  far 
V9iay  from  the  homes  of  their  brethren,  and  the  graves  of  their 
&thers — and  when  perhaps  all  joined  in  singing  a  part  of  the  nine- 
tiwBth  Psalm,  Scottish  version,  to  the  "  Martyrs"  tune,  and  also  the 
second  Scripture  Paraphrase  in  the  same  book ;  after  which  they 
Trere  commended  to  the  care  of  Him  who  worketh  all  things  after 
^  counsel  of  His  own  will,  and  in  conclusion,  while  the  tear  of 
parental  solicitude  dimmed  the  eyes  of  their  aged  parent,  they  re- 
teived  the  paternal  benediction  in  the  name  of  the  God  of  Abra- 
3ttm,  of  Isaac,  of  Jacob,  and  of  their  Covenanted  fathers.  They 
Trere  then  given  with  the  well-known  autograph  on  the  title  page, 
acopy  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  having  the  Scottish  Psalms  attached; 
jffid  perhaps  an  edition  of  that  well-known  book,  the  Scots'  Wor- 
ries by  Howie  of  Lochgoin,  with  the  positive  injunction  never  to 
forget  the  God  of  their  fathers,  in  that  land  to  which  they  were 

^ng,  for  in  the  language  of  the  Psalmist. — 

"  His  testimony  and  his  law, 
In  Israel  he  did  place, 
^  And  charged  our  fathers  it  to  show 

To  their  succeeding  race  ; 

That  so  the  race  which  was  to  come 

Might  well  them  learn  and  know, 
And  sons  unborn  who  should  arise 

Might  to  their  sons  them  show." 

Even  in  this  land  they  still  retain  those  religious  usages  that 
w«re common  among  their  pious  forefathers  in  the  days  that  tried 
loen^s  souls,  and  wherever  twenty  of  them  can  conveniently  as- 
semble, there  will  be  found  either  a  Scotch  or  Reformed  Presby- 


IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTBRS.  Si 

terian  Church  with  the  old  version  of  the  Psalms  of  D&eU,  the 
Covenant,  and  Scotland. 

The  honest  Saxon  Churchman,  and  the  uncompfovir'^ing  Scotch- 
Irish  Presbyterian  of  the  Lagan  valley,  remember  equally  with 
fond  regret,  the  days  of  other  years  that  never  shall  return.  The 
former,  as  he  attended  with  his  family,  the  old  Parish  Church,  with 
its  ivy-clad  walls  and  solemn  Sabbath  bell.  Its  row  of  ancient 
and  stately  trees,  with  the  neat  enclosure  surrounding  the  old 
grave-yard,  where  lies  in  honorable  repose  the  ashes  of  his  fathers 
from  before  the  Commonwealth.  Its  neatly  graded  avenue,  with 
a  row  of  trees  on  either  side,  leading  through  the  monuments  of 
mortality  to  the  venerable  building ;  and  where  from  the  old 
church-yard  gate,  while  attending  the  burial  of  his  relatives  and 
friends,  he  has  so  often  met  the  Minister  of  religion  in  his  white 
surplice,  reciting  in  a  solemn  manner  the  beautiful  service  ap- 
pointed by  the  Episcopal  church  for  the  burial  of  the  dead,  com- 
mencing with  the  words  of  Christ,  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the 
life,  whosoever  believeth  in  me  though  he  were  dead  yet  shall  he 
live."  and  then  following  the  prophetic  exclamation  of  Job,  "I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  on  the 
earth  at  the  latter  day ,"  and  when  the  interment  has  been  finished, 
that  scriptural  and  Calvinistic  form  of  sound  words  is  appropri- 
ately brought  to  a  close  with  the  Apostolic  benediction. 


Letter  VI. 

The  Protestants  of  Ireland  and  their  position  in  1848 — Beminis- 
cences  of  the  Irish  Orangemen,  with  observations  on  the  same. 
In  Ulster  I  well  recollect  that  high.souled  enthusiasm  which 
animated  the  hearts  of  her  sons  and  daughters  on  the  anni- 
versary of  that  bright  auspicious  day  which  celebrated  the  triumph 
of  our  fathers  over  popish  despotism  as  the  ruling  power  of  the 
land. 


38  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

On  the  12th  of  July,  1848,  there  arose  with  the  rising  of  the 
sun  until  the  setting  of  the  same,  one  stern  determined  voice  in 
Ulster,  from  the  routes  and  glens  of  Antrim  to  the   rock  bound 
coasts  of  Donegal,    and  from  the  smiling  valleys  and  mountain 
passes  of  Derry  to  the  border  mountain  range  of  Mouvne  in  Down, 
even  to  Dolly's  Brae,  that  Ireland  should  be  free  from  the  Lun- 
dies  and  the  Mitchels,  and  the  mixed  multitude  of  traitors  and 
felons,  who  from  lack  of  individual  industry,  are  ever  found  war- 
ring against  the  existing  institutions  of  any  free  country,  either  on 
their  own  personal  accounts  or  as  agents  of  some  foreign  or  des- 
potic influence.     The  voice  of  Ulster  went  up  before  high  heaven 
that  popery  should  never  again  trample  on  the  Protestant  faith  in 
Ireland,  for  the  Saxon  sword  and  Scottish  claymore  were  ready  in 
in    the    "  red  right  hand  of  Ulster"  to  avenge   (if  attacked)  the 
deeds  of  other  days.     Yea,  by  the  ashes  of  Smithfield  under  Mary 
the  bloody,  and  the  crimson  heather  of  Scotland,  under  Charles  the 
faithless,  and  the  deserted  homes  of  France  under  Louis  the   un- 
principled, and  also  by  the  drowned  victims  of  Portadown  Bridge, 
in  the  county  of  Armagh,  In  1641,  and  by  the  burned   victims  of 
ScuUabogue  Barn,  in  the  County  of  Wexford  in  1798,  and  by  the 
blood  of  our  martyred  forefathers  who  fell  in  mortal  fight  at  Der- 
xy,  at  Aughrim,  at  Enniskillen  and  the  Boyne,  whilst  nobly  de- 
fendiug  their  rights  and  our  lives  to  live  as  freemen,  and  not  as 
slaves  bound  beneath  the  iron  hoof  of  popery  when  it  sought  to 
trample  under  foot  their  dearest  liberties,  and  through  them  that 
of  their  descendants,  but  no,  the  wily  foe  was  baffled,  for  after  the 
great  Irish  Massacre  of  1641,  when  popery  thought  to  have  mur- 
dered the  whole  Protestant  race  in   Ireland  by  organized  gangs  of 
midnight  assassins,  such  enormities  were  then  committed  as  would 
have  even  put  the  red  Indian  to  the  blush.    There  has  been  a  full  ac- 
count of  that  infernal  transaction  written  by  Sir  John  Temple,  one 
of  the  lords  justices  of  Ireland  about  that  time,  Reid's  history  of 
the  Presbyterian  church  in  Ireland,  and  also  by  many  other  writers 
whose  veracity  no  one  can  impeach. 

The  Irish  Orangeman  remembers  well  the  green  glens  of  An- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  39 

trim  and  Tyrone,  with  the  hills,  valleys,  and  towns  of  Ulster, 
where  in  company  with  his  brethren  he  has  so  often  unfurled  the 
bright  banner  of  his  fathers,  the  Orange  and  Scottish  true  Blue, 
accompanied  by  the  deep  rolling  of  the  double  drum  and  the 
shrill  whistle  of  the  fife,  to  the  "  Protestant  Boys"  and  the  "  Boyne 
Water,"  with  other  tunes  equally  commemorative  of  the  heroism 
displayed  by  their  gallant  ancestry  in  days  of  other  years,  when 
they  fought  as  only  free  men  dare  to  fight,  and  died  as  only  free- 
men die.  The  memories  of  the  glorious  dead,  crowd  upon 
us,  and  the  "No  Surrender"  defiance  of  Derry's  matchless 
apprentice  boys,  who  like  "guardian  angels  their  vigils 
keep"  on  their  time-honored  ramparts.  The  historian's  page 
will  bring  their  memories  to  view  as  monuments  of  en- 
during greatness,  when  the  sons  of  unlawful  rebellion  will 
scarcely  be  discerned  iu  dim  perspective.  Israel's  God  who  part- 
ed the  crimson  flood  for  his  chosen,  remembered  with  the  men  of 
Derry  his  covenant  of  mercy,  and  when  Popery  attempted  to  se- 
duce their  allegiance  from  the  Protestant  taith,  he  inspired  them  to 
cry  out "  No  Surrender."  Whilst  the  names  of  many  of  the 
young  men  of  the  present  day  deserve  no  more  lasting  memorial 
than  to  be  written  on  the  sands  of  the  beach,  which  the  first  wave 
will  efl!ace,  Derry's  sons  should  be  engraven  on  the  tablets  of  the 
heart,  there  to  remain  in  everlasting  remembrance.  Famine  and 
disease,  as  the  angel  of  death,  swept  with  her  dark  wings  that  de- 
voted  city — the  grandfather,  the  mother,  and  the  babe,  all  died 
together ;  but  the  smile  of  joy  shone  upon  the  cheek  of  death,  for 
they  believed  that  with  our  hearts'  best  blood  we  would  guard 
the  rights  for  which  they  died.  Imagine  the  sainted  Walker  as- 
cending the  pulpit  in  warrior  costume,  preaching  the  living  lessons 
of  faith,  hope,  and  repentance,  while  the  crimson  flag  of  distress 
floats  on  the  air,  and  the  beacon  fire  which  tells  of  murder,  blazes 
by  night,  the  funereal  knell  of  thousands  to  their  graves  beneath, 
yet  still  surrender  was  never  breathed.  Can  those  beatified  spir- 
its look  down  from  their  bright  abodes  and  see  the  truckling  and 
time-serving  of  many  in  the  present  generation  1    If  so,  do  they 


40 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


not,  as  with  cloven  tongues  of  fire,  to  each  heart  exclaim,  "  base- 
recreant  descendants,we  bequeathed  you  privileges  at  the  sacrifice 
of  our  lives,  and  you  have  sold  them  for  a  mess  of  Popish  pottage. 
Was  it  for  you  to  endow  Jesuit  colleges  we  famished  ?  Was  it 
for  the  exclusion  of  the  Bible  and  a  Popish  national  education  we 
bled  ?  Was  it  for  the  propagation  of  the  idolatry  we  died  ? 
No,  verily  not. 

The  Irish  Orangeman  reflects  with  due  ancestral  pride  on 
the  halo  which  surrounds  Aughrim's  lofty  hills,the  Boyne's  silvery 
wave.  Berry's  rampart  walls,  and  Enniskillen's  chivalry,  and  looks 
forward  with  pleasure  to  the  time  which  the  Lord  hath  appointed, 
when  the  abominations  of  Popery  shall  disappear  fi  om  the  earth 
before  an  open  Bible,  as  the  clouds  of  night  before  the  rising  sun. 
Then  shall  the  hymning  spheres  and  morning  stars  usher  in  a  flood 
of  Protestant  glory,  before  which  will  pale  the  splendor  of  Ma- 
rathon, and  the  halo  of  Thermopylae. 

That  place  is  well  remembered  where  Churchman  and  Cove- 
nanter met,  to  renew  their  solemn  vows  of  eternal  friendship,  in 
which  th3y  were  pledged  to  defend  each  other  to  the  last  extrem- 
ity against  their  common  enemy,  whose  ribbon  oath,  by  priestly 
orders,  had  bound,  at  any  favorable  opportunity,  to  "  walk  knee 
deep  in  Protestant  blood."  I  may  here  mention  to  American 
Protestants,  that  Irish  Papists  consider  themselve3  as  much  bound 
to  obey  their  Jesuit  leaders  here  as  they  were  beyond  the  sea, 
and  that  they  are  ever  ready,  on  any  occasion,  to  give  a  practical 
proof  of  their  sincerity  to  the  cause,  which  binds  them  to  the  ex- 
tirpation of  hesesy  ;  the  end  always  justifying  the  means  when 
the  interests  of  the  Church  are  concerned.  See  Cardinal  Bellar- 
mine  and  other  Popish  Doctors,  whose  metaphysical  abstractions 
in  certain  points,  far  eclipse  those  of  Messrs,  Philosopher  Greeley 
&  Co.,  the  great  Pioneers  in  the  pursuit  of  life,  liberty,  and  hap- 
piness. These  gentlemen,  being  pronounced  by  competent  judges 
in  that  line,  as  ahead  of  all  competition ;  having  arrived  at  such 
an  altitude  in  the  moral  heavens,  they  now  look  down  with  per- 
fect astonishment,  and  innocently  inquire  why  contending  elements 


IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS. 


should  ever  meet  so  as  to  disturb  the  serenity    of  their  positMC 
while  theorizing  on  some  undiscovered  ism. 


Letter  VII. 

The  Irish  Massacre  o/"  1641,  with  a  few  details  of  the  same^  firmt 
the  affidavits  that  have  been  'preserved  in  the  Library  of  Tritdtf 
College  Dublin— The  Battle  of  the  Boyne,  1690— HistoriaM 
illustrations  of  the  practical  operations  of  Popery. 

From  McCrie's  sketches  of  Church  History,  I  take  the  follow- 
ing extract,  relating  to  the  Irish  Massacre  of  1641: 

"  Religious  rancor,  goaded  by  superstition,  lent   its  energief 
to  this  design.    The  ignorant  natives  schooled  by   their  priests 
into  the  belief  that  they  would  merit  heaven  by  putting  the  her&' 
tics  to  death,  received  the  sacrament  before  commencing  the  work 
of  carnage,  and  swore  they  would  not  leave  a  Protestant  alive  ie. 
the  kingdom.    The  Protestants  of  Ulster  were  attacked  with » 
savage  ferocity  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of  the  world.     No  mercy 
was  shown  to  sex,  rank,  age  or  infancy.     The  mother  was  reserved 
only  to  see  her  helpless  children  butchered  befere  her  eyes,  and 
then  to  suffer  the  same  fate.     Some  wretches   were  prevailed  OE 
by  promise  of  life  to  become  executioners  of  their  dearest  relatives, 
and  after  having  incurred  this  tremendous  guilt   were  executed  in 
their  turn.     Others,  after  being  tempted   by  promise  of  life  te 
disown  their  faith,  and  conform  to  the   popish  rites,  were  coolly 
told  that  lest  they  should  relapse,  it  would  be  charity  to  sead 
them  immediately  to  heaven,  and  were  forthwith  put   to  deatlu 
In  these  tragicial  scenes,  the  women,  under  the  influence  of  **  re- 
ligious" frenzy  were  as  active  as  the  men,and  mere  children,  hardi- 
ly able  to  wield  the  kniff,  were  urged  by  their  parents  to  st»« 
their  little  hands  in  blood.     But  time  would  fail  us  to  recountti» 
cruelties  and  indignities  committed  on  the   unhappy  ProtestaBfes. 
"  The  bare  mention  of  these  execrable  atrocities  is  enough  t» 


42 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


make  the  ears  tingle.  Not  to  speak  of  the  multitudes  who  perish- 
ed in  the  field  of  battle,  and  in  dungeons,  thousands  were  driven 
into  the  water  like  so  many  beasts,  and  knocked  on  the  head, 
or  shot,  if  they  attempted  to  swim  for  their  lives.  Others  were 
dragged  through  the  water  with  ropes  about  their  necks.  Others 
were  buried  alive.  Others  were  hung  up  by  the  arms,  and  gra- 
dually slashed  to  death,  to  see  how  many  blows  an  Englishman 
would  endure  before  he  died.  Women  were  ripped  up,  and  their 
children  were  thrown  to  the  swine  to  be  devoured  before  their 
eyes,  or  being  taken  by  the  heels  had  their  brains  dashed  out 
against  a  tree,  while  others  were  found  in  the  fields,  sucking 
the  breasts  of  their  murdered  mothers,  and  without  mercy, 
were  buried  alive.  Multitudes  were  enclosed  in  houses,  which 
being  set  on  fire,  were  miserably  consumed  in  the  flames,  or 
cut  to  pieces  in  attempting  to  escape.  These  fearful  butcher- 
ies, (the  half  of  which  has  not  been  told)  were  accompanied  with 
the  most  hellish  blasphemies  and  imprecations  on  the  part  of  the 
murderers,  and  the  most  heart-rending  shrieks,  and  lamentations 
from  the  terrified  victims,  presents  a  scene  unparalleled  in  British 
history,  and  equal  only  in  horror  to  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew, in  France.^' 

There  is  not  space  enough  to  enumerate  the  unheard  of  cru- 
elties that  have  been  practiced  on  the  Irish  Protestants,  since  the 
Reformation,  by  the  blood-thirsty  agents  of  Popery.  The  fiendish 
cruelties  that  have  been  committed  full  over  thirty-two  folio  vol- 
umes in  the  Library  of  Trinity  College,  where  the  affidavits  con- 
cerning them  have  been  preserved.  From  October  2.3rd,  1641,  to 
September  15,  1643  (not  two  full  years)  above  300,000  Protes- 
tants were  massacred  or  expelled  from  Ireland  by  the  Papists  ! 
All  Ireland,  north,  south,  east  and  west,  was  simultaneously  lighted 
irith  fires.  On  May  29th  1641  more  than  40,000  perished,  and 
a  plenary  indulgence  was  granted  to  the  murderers  by  Pope  Ur- 
ban VIII  ! 

The  Ulster  Plantation  became  a  field  of  blood  ;  the  very  ri- 
Ters  were  defiled    with  floating  corpses.     At  Portadown  Bridge, 


IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS.  4S 

1,000  Protestants  were,  hurled  into  the  river  Bann,  and  those  who 
swam  to  the  opposite  shore  were  shot  from  the  banks.  At  Ar- 
magh 4,000  were  thus  drowned.  In  Cavan  twelve  miles  of  the 
high  road  were  crimsoned  like  a  butcher's  block.  Torture  in  all 
its  ingenuity"  succeeded  the  outbreak.  Popish  children  were 
taught  to  hack  the  quivering  little  limbs  of  Protestant  children ! 
Whole  families  were  buried  alive,  and  the  cry  of  a  young  boy 
''  Mama  !  Mama !"  from  his  living  grave  was  greeted  with  a  yell 
of  laughter,  till  the  heaped  up  earth  stifled  his  voice  !  The  shrinks 
of  the  burned  were  music  in  the  ears  of  these  unhuman  mur 
derers. 

The  Protestants  everywhere  mingled  with  the  Papists  on  the 
most  friendly  terms,  and,  without  any  real,  or  assumed  superiority  i 
the  consequence  was,  that  they  were  so  completely  surprised  and 
terrified  by  the  sudJeness  of  the  outbreak,  that  they  were  inca 
pable  of  making  any  combined  efforts  for  their  mutual  defence. 
Those  who  heard  of  the  commotion  in  their  neighborhood  remain- 
ed at  home  to  protect  their  families  and  property,  and  thus  fell 
one  by  one,  an  easy  prey  to  the  papists 

Mr.  Rowley  Lascelles,  in  his  valuable  official  Reports.  "Li- 
ber Munerum  Publicorum  Hibernae"  printed  1826,  records  the  fol- 
lowing useful  and  authentic  facts,  which  will  amply  explain  why 
the  penal  laws  were  subsequently  rigorously  enacted  against  the 
Papists — not  because  they  were  of  a  different  form  of  religion,  but 
because  no  man's  life  was  safe  from  their  conspiracies  and  horrible 
plots  : — "  Upon  the  repulse  of  Sir  Phelim  O'Neill  from  the  castle 
of  Augher,  he  ordered  all  the  British  Protestants  in  three  adjacent 
parishes  to  be  put  to  the  sword.  Upon  his  defeat  at  Lisburn,  Lord 
Caulfield,  O'Neill's  former  host,  and  fifly  other  prisoners,  were 
murdered.  Others  of  the  prisoners,  on  pretence  of  being  for- 
warded to  the  nearest  British  Settlement,  were  goaded  forward 
like  beasts  of  burden  by  their  guards ;  some  were  enclosed  in  a 
house  or  castle  to  which  fire  was  set,  with  a  savage  indifference  to 
their  cries  and  a  fiendish  like  triumph  over  their  expiring  agonies, 
the  Priests  everywhere  encouraging  these  deeds  by  their  presence." 


% 
s 


44  IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS. 

Such  is  the  dreadful  but  true  statement  made  by  the  late  Mr. 
Rowley  Lascelles,  who  was  appointed  some  years  since  to  exam- 
ine the  Irish  State  Records  and  Rolls. 

It  would  be  painful  to  narrate  the  demoniac  deeds  of  this  un- 
provoked rebellion,  but  in  order  that  the  origin  of  the  penal  laws 
may  be  fully  understood,  the  following  extract  from  the  "  Annals 
of  Ireland  "  with  the  official  evidence  is  given : 

"  By  Sir  Phelim  O'Neill's,  express  order  Lieut.  James  Max- 
well, brother  to  Dr.  Robert  Maxwell,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Kil- 
more,  was  dragged  out  of  his  bed  in  the  height  of  a  burning  fe- 
ver, driven  two  miles,  and  then  murdered  ;  his  wife  great  with 
child,  stripped  stark  naked  and  drowned  in  the  Blackwater,  the 
child  half  born.  Mr.  Starkey,  aged  an  hundred  years,  was,  with 
his  two  daughters  stripped  naked,  the  daughters  forced  to  support 
and  lead  their  father  and  having  gone  three  quarters  of  a  mile  they 
were  all  then  drowned  in  a  turf  pit"  {Dr.  Maxwell's  ^Examination 
p.  9.  and  Examination  of  Capt.  John  Perkins  of  the  Co.  Tyrone, 
pp.  5.  7) 

"  Five  hundred  Protestants  were  murdered  at  Armagh,  be- 
sides forty-eight  families  in  the  parish  of  Killiman"  {Capt.  Per- 
kin's  Examinatian  p.  6.  and  Anthony  Straffords  Examination  at 
Armagh  p.  2.) 

"  Three  hundred  Protestants  were  stripped  naked  and  put 
into  the  church  of  Loughgall,  whereof  about  an  hundred  were 
murdered  in  the  church,  amongst  whom  was  John  Gregg,  who  was 
quartered,  and  his  quarters  thrown  in  the  face  of  his  father  Rich- 

« 

ard  Gregg.  The  said  Richard  Gregg  was  then  murdered,  having 
received  seventeen  or  eighteen  wounds ;  his  body  was  then  quar- 
tered in  presence  of  his  wife,  who  made  this  affidavit  before  the 
Commissioners  appointed  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  cru- 
elties practiced  by  the  rebels  "  {See  Borlase  Appendix,  p.  111.) 

"  Fifteen  hundred  Protestants  were  murdered  in  three  parish- 
es in  the  Co.  Armagh"  (James  Shaw's  Examination,  p.  \) 

"Two  and  twenty  Protestants   were  put  into    a  thatched 
house  in  the  parish  of  Kilmoreand  then  burned  alive"  {Examine- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  45 

tion  of  Smith,  ClerJc^  Fillis,  SianJiaw,  TuUertorif  Machet,  of  the  Co, 
Armagh) 

"  The  Eev.  Mr.  Robinson,  his  wife  and  three  children  were 
drowned.  Mr.  William  Blundell  was  drawn  by  the  neck  in  a 
rope  up  and  down  the  Blackwater,  at  Charlemont,  to  make  him 
confess  his  money,  and  in  three  weeks  after,  he,  with  his  wife  and 
seven  children  were  drowned. 

*'  Forty  four  other  persons  were  murdered  at  several  times 
in  the  same  place,  where,  among  other  horrible  acts  a  woman  was 
compelled  to  hang  her  own  husband  {Examination  of  Edward 
Saltenstal,  George  Littlejleld,  and  Margaret  Bromley  of  Armagh. 
— See  Borlase's  Appendix  p  110. 

"  One  hundred  and  eighty  Protestants  were  drowned  at  the 
bridge  of  Gallon,  and  one  hundred  more  in  a  Lough  near  Bally- 
macilmorrough."  (Examination  of  Capt.  Anthony  Strafford  at 
Armagh,  p.  2. 

"  Fifty  Protestants   were  murdered  at  Blackwater  church. 
The  wife  of  Arnold  Taylor,  great  with  child,  had  her  belly  ripped 
up,  and  was  then  drowned — ^Thomas  Mason  was  burned  alive  ; — 
the  brains  of  three  Protestants  were  knocked  out  with  a  hatchet 
in  the  church  of  Benburb ; — eight  women    were  drowned  in  the 
river  near  the  same  church — Mrs.  Rowland  and  Mrs.  Franklin 
(both  great  with  child)  were  murdered  with  six  of  their  children 
{^Examinations  of  Tillis,  Stanhaw,  Frankland,  Smith,  Clerk,  Price, 
Taller  ton,  Har  court  and  Parry  of  the  Co.  Armagh.) 

"  In  the  Co.  of  Tyrone,  the  Rev.  John  Mather,  and  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Blythe,  though  they  had  Sir  Phelim  O'Neill's  protection,  were 
murdered  with  sixty  Protestant  families  of  the  town  of  Dun- 
gannon"  (Examinations  of  John  Perkins  Esq.  of  the  Co.  Tyrone 
and  Capt.  Anthony  Strafford  of  the  Co.  Armagh.") 

"Between  Charlemont  and  Dungannon  about  400  were  mur- 
dered. &c.  &c. 

"In  this  dreadful  persecution  those  who  through  fear, 
though  few  in  number,  had  conformed  to  Popery  did  not  es- 
cape the  fury  of  the  rebels — but  they  were  the  last  that  were  cut 


46  IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTERS. 

off.  The  rebels,  about  this  time,  lest  they  should  be  charged  with 
more  murders  than  they  committed,  commanded  their  Priests  to 
bring  in  a  true  account  of  them — from  which  it  appeared,  that 
from  the  23rd  of  October  1641,  to  the  month  of  March  1643,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  -four  thousand  Protestants  were  murdered  {^Dr. 
Maxwells  Examination  p  7) 

On  the  confession  of  the  perpetrators  ONE  HUNDRED 
AND  FIFTY  FOUR  THOUSAND  WERE  MURDERED ! ! ! 
Pages — volumes,  might  be  filled  with  these  dreadful  deeds,  which 
were  perpetrated  under  the  sacred  name  of  religion,  which  was 
used  as  a  means  of  hardening  the  heart  to  the  cries  of  suffering 
humanity. 

Hume  in  the  sixth  volume  of  his  History,  page  410  to  430, 
styles  this  insurrection  as  a  rebellion  without  provocation,  to  be 
held  in  perpetual  detestation  and  abhorence.  The  "  heretics,"  as 
abhorred  of  God,  were  marked  out  by  the  priests  for  slaughter ; 
and,  of  all  actions  to  rid  the  world  of  these  declared  enemies  to 
Romish  faith  and  piety  it  was  represented  as  the  most  meritorious 
deed ;  and  while  the  victims  were  in  the  agonies  of  death,  the 
shouts  and  imprecations  of  their  demoniac  assassins  rung  in  their 
ears,  that  their  present  sufferings  were  but  the  commencement  of 
eternal  torments. 

The  greater  part  of  Ireland  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  Papists 
in  1642 ;  the  life  and  property  of  no  Protestant  was  safe  and  the 
Bible  was  everywhere  burnt  or  destroyed  in  the  most  ignomini- 
ous manner. 

Well  indeed  has  it  been  observed  by  Mosheim  in  his  appen- 
dix to  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  18th  Century,  page  59, 
that  the  "maintenance  of  all  liberty,  civil  and  religious,  depends  on 
circumscribing  Popery  within  proper  bounds,  since  Popery  is  not 
a  system  of  innocent  speculative  opinions,  but  a  yoke  of  despot- 
ism, an  enormous  mixture  of  priestly  and  princely  tyranny  de- 
signed to  enslave  tJie  consciences  of  mankind  and  destroy  their 
most  sacred  and  invaluable  rights." 

Such  is  the  Popish  system  fully  carried  out.    Shortly  after 


IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS.  47 

all  this  happened,  the  Lord  remembered  his  people  in  mercy,  by 
sending  his  servant,  Cromwell,  with  the  sword  of  justice,  to  smite 
the  murderer  in  his  blood — even  that  man  who  made  Inquisitors 
to  tremble,  and  caused  the  name  and  flag  of  England  to  be  re- 
spected by  even  her  greatest  and  most  powerful  enemies.  He 
came  as  a  second  Joshua,  to  go  in  and  possess  the  land  for  the 
wickedness  of  them  that  dwelt  therein,  and  that  they  of  the 
Protestant  faith  might  dwell  therein  with  safety.  But  still,  the 
Canaanite  dwelt  in  the  land,  and  after  thirty  years  of  comparative 
peace,  they  rebelled  again  when  Cromwell  was  no  more. 

Then  there  rose  a  noble  scion  of  the  House  of  Orange  like  a 
second  royal  David,  whom  worthy  Britons  called  from  his  native 
land  and  elected  to  be  their  king.  In  his  days  did  the  righteous 
flourish,  for  he  was  a  terror  to  evil  doers  and  a  praise  to  them  that 
do  well.  He  trampled  the  dragon  and  chained  the  tiger  of  po- 
pish despotism  in  Great  Britain.  He  came  to  Ireland,  and  with 
him  the  gallant  Hollanders  and  the  noble  but  persecuted  Hugue- 
nots, under  their  valiant  leaders,  Schomberg,  de  Ginckel  and 
Caillemote ;  to  these  were  added  the  hardy  Ulster,  Scots  and  En- 
glish settlers  who  came  by  the  memories  of  their  fathers'  blood. 
With  thirty  thousand  in  all  of  such  Protestant  heroes,  William  in 
person  led  his  men  to  the  decisive  battle  of  the  Boyne,  where 
with  every  disadvantage,  he  crossed  the  river  and  defeated  an  ene- 
my of  sixty  thousand  on  the  opposite  banks,  in  the  heart  of  a  popish 
country  which  had  risen  up  to  sustain  its  purjured  king.  There 
are  many  incidents  connected  with  that  battle, which  are  as  house- 
hold words  in  the  homesteads  of  Ulster,  and  of  the  Protestants  of 
Ireland.  From  Belsham's  History  of  England,  I  take  the  follow- 
ing short  extract  relating  to  that  engagement :  "  M.  Caillemotte 
a  French  refugee  officer  of  great  merit  received  a  mortal  wound 
at  the  head  of  his  Regiment,  and  was  carried  back  to  the  English 
camp;  meeting  the  Huguenots  crossing  the  river  he  encouraged 
them  by  exclaiming  :  "A  la  gloire  tries  enfans — a  la  gloire.*^  The 
Duke  of  Schomberg,  (an  aged  man  of  over  fourscore  years,  who 
had  spent  more  than  half  a  century  in  defence  of  Holland,  his  na  • 


48  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

tive  country,  against  papal  intolerance),  perceiving  the  French 
Protestants  exposed,  and  in  some  disorder  from  the  loss  of  their 
Commander,  passed  the  river  in  haste  without  his  armor,  and  with 
all  the  ardor  of  youth  put  himself  at  their  head.  But  the  bat- 
tle in  this  quarter  being  peculiarly  hot  and  bloody,  the  Marshall 
fell  in  a  very  short  time.  This  celebrated  personage  was  regarded 
as  one  of  the  first  military  characters  of  the  age,  and  he  possessed 
all  the  virtues  and  accomplishments  of  a  hero.  Walker,  the 
clergyman  who  had  rendered  himself  so  famous  by  his  defence  of 
Derry,  also  lost  his  life  in  this  action,  gloriously  combatting  in 
the  cause  of  his  country.  The  courage,  activity,  and  presence  of 
mind  of  king  William,  himself,  were  extremely  conspicuous  du- 
ring the  whole  of  this  engagement,  in  the  course  of  which  he  re- 
peatedly charged  the  enemy  sword  in  hand.  The  Irish  now  quit- 
ed  the  field  with  precipitation.  William,  also  recalling  his  troops 
from  the  pursuit,  expressing  himself  averse  to  the  unnecessary 
effusion  of  blood."  Thus  ended  the  famous  battle  of  the 
Boyne  on  the  1st  of  July,  (O.  S.)  1690,  which  is  enshrined  on  the 
hearts  of  the  Irish  Protestants  as  one  of  the  most  noble  deeds  of 
their  fathers  in  days  of  auld  lang  syne. 

Now,  one  word  in  conclusion.  Can  we,  either  as  Irish  or 
American  Protestants,  remain  unmoved,  when  we  witness  our 
forefathers'  sufferings,  in  order  to  transmit  to  us  the  Bible  and 
Protestant  Freedom  ?  Let  us  look  at  Popery  as  we  find  her  em. 
blazoned  on  the  page  of  History  in  characters  of  blood,  and  letters 
of  fire.  About  the  year  1100,  there  were  murdered  a  million  of 
the  Waldenses  by  papists;  in  the  year  1567  and  shortly  after- 
wards, from  five  to  six  hundred  thousand  Protestants  had  to  fly 
from  their  homes  in  the  Netherland,  to  escape  the  tyranny  of 
popery,  eighteen  thousand  of  whom  fell  by  the  hands  of  the  com- 
mon executioner,  besides  the  sixty  thousand  men  of  Breziers  all 
under  the  Duke  of  Alva  as  Deputy  of  Spain ;  in  1572  was  the 
great  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew  in  France,  by  which  over  a 
million  perished  in  a  very  short  time.  In  1641  was  the  great 
Irish  Protestant  massacre    of  two  hundred  thousand.     With  these 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  49 

facts  staring  us  in  the  face,  let  us  be  prepared  to  meet  the  com- 
mon enemy,  whose  thirst  for  blood  is  merely  delayed  from  mo- 
tives of  expediency.  See  "  Shepherd  of  the  Valley"  and  other 
such  pious  guardians  of  the  flock.  Are  we  not  all  the  children  of 
the  Glorious  Reformation  ?  Hath  not  one  God  created  us,  and 
wherefore  should  we  deal  treachorously,  even  any  of  us,  by  for- 
saking the  Covenant  which  the  Lord  made  with  our  fathers,  when 
he  delivered  them  from  the  Egyptian  bondage-house  of  popish 
tyranny?  As  sons  of  Luther,  Calvin,  Knox,  Cranmer,  Whitfield 
or  Wesley,  let  us  be  up  and  doing,  for  the  day  is  far  spent  and  the 
night  is  at  hand. 

"  The  night  is  gathering  gloomily  and  the  day  is  closing  fast 
The  tempest  flaps  his  raven  wings  in  loud  and  angry  blast." 

Let  our  mottoes  be :  "  E.  pluribus  unum,"  and  "  Excelsior," 
to  which  may  be  added  the  good  old  Irish  Protestant  watchword : 
"  No  Surrender ; "  with  these  three,  victory  is  certain. 


Letter  vm. 

The  Irish  Rebellions  and  Confiscations  of  Desmond  in  1580,  an<f 
Tyrone  in  1641,  with  some  notices  of  the  "  Patriots  "  concerned 
therein,  and  the  motives  by  which  they  were  actuated. 

It  has  ever  been  the  practice  of  popery  to  promote  civil  dis- 
cord and  dissension  in  all  countries  where  Protestant  influence  has 
predominated.  In  Ireland  the  real  opposition  to  England  never 
began  until  after  the  Protestant  Reformation  had  commenced. 
During  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  the  O'Neill's  were  the  prin- 
ciple agents  used  in  carrying  on  the  religious  wars  under  the  spec- 
ial guidance  of  Romish  Priests  and  Jesuits.  It  was  not  that  they 
hated  England  because  she  was  a  foreign  power,  but  from  the  fact 
of  her  being  the  bulwark  of  Protestantism.  If  she  had  remained 
a  popish  country,  and  continued  as  degraded  as  they,  through  the 


50  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

same  influence  had  become,  no  true  Irish  Papist  would  ever  have 
objected  to  the  "  foreign  yoke  "  which  had  been  imposed  upon 
the  country  when  Pope  Adrian  IV.,  for  the  suppression  of  the  an- 
cient Irish  church  aud  nation,  handed  over  both  to  the  "  lordship  " 
of  popish  England. 

There  have  been  about  fifty  attempts  at  rebellion ;  the  great- 
er part  of  which  are  directly  traceable  to  Romish  intrigue.  There 
is  a  fact  worthy  of  notice  that  on  all  these  occasions  a  general  mass- 
acre of  the  Protestant  inhabitants,  especially  of  natives,  has  been 
the  principal  object,  while  English  pnpisls  have  never  been  touched. 
If  it  had  been  a  pure  question  of  nationality,  why  acknowledge 
the  sovereignty  of  the  Prince  of  Rome,  and  deny  that  of  Eng- 
land ?  But  the  fact  has  always  been,  and  still  is,  that  no  papist 
ever  was  or  can  be  a  true  Irishman,  a  true  Englishman,  a  true 
Frenchman,  a  true  Italian  or  a  true  American.  All  papists,  out- 
side the  "  States  of  the  Church,"  are  mere  nondescripts,  having 
neither  God  or  country.  They  have,  however,  a  Goddess  with 
some  three  thousand  inferior  deities ;  the  former  they  address 
*'  Hail  Mary  Mother  of  God  and  Queen  of  Heaven,  pray  for  us." 
The  inferior  deities,  or  demi-Gods,  ave  made  up  of  such  characters 
as  Sts.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Thomas  a'Becket.  Francis  Zavier,  Igna- 
tius Loyola,  Alphonsus  Liguori,  Dennis,  Dunstan  Bernard,  &c. 

It  may  be  necessary  here  to  illustrate  the  effect  of  the  Ro 
mish  intrigues  by  adverting  to  some  of  the  rebellions,  whose  his- 
tories prove  that  these  insurrections  did  not  arise  from  what  has 
been  unjustly  called  "  Protestant  bigotry,"  and  at  the  same  time 
demonstrate  that  the  confiscations  which  took  place  were  the  in- 
evitable result  of  treason  on  the  broadest  and  most  dangerous 
scale.  Whenever  these  confiscations  are  alluded  to  by  the  vitriolic 
patriots  of  the  present  day,  their  cause  is  studiously  concealed, 
the  direful  civil  wars  and  desolations,  kept  up  by  Romish  emissa- 
aries,  such  as  Papal  Nuncios,  Vicars  Apostolic,  Jesuit  Propagan- 
dists.  Mendicant  Friars,  &c.  It  is  never  even  hinted  that  life  as 
well  as  property  was  forfeited  for  unprovoked  and  bloody  rebell. 
ions,  always  aided  hy  foreign  invasions. 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  51 

About  the  year  1580,  Stukely,  an  adventurer  of  English 
birth,  went  from  Ireland  to  Rome,  at  the  instance  of  Pope  Greg- 
ory XIII.,  to  have  a  son  of  the  Pope,Giacomo  Buoncompagno  made 
king  of  Ireland.  The  Pope  created  Stukely,  Marquis  of  Lein- 
ster.  Earl  of  "Wexford,  and  Carlow,  and  Baron  of  Ross.  One 
thousand  Italian  robbers  were  pardoned  by  the  Pope  on  consider- 
ation of  their  aiding  Stukely's  design.  Philip  of  Spain  agreed 
to  pay  this  banditti,  not  being  then  aware  that  the  Pope's  son 
was  his  rival  for  the  sovereignty  of  Ireland.  Stukely  was  killed 
in  Africa  along  with  Don  Sebastian,  whom  he  had  accompanied 
on  an  expedition,  on  the  promise  of  subsequent  aid  and  from  Por- 
tugal, in  Ireland. 

Fitzmaurice  (Geraldine)  in  conjunction  with  Saunders,  an  Eng- 
lish Ecclesiastic,  and  Allen  an  Irish  priest,  prevailed  on  the  Pope 
to  organize  another  invasion  of  Ireland.  A  bull  was  drawn  up, 
and  addressed  to  all  the  prelates  and  princes  exhorting  them  to 
assist  Fitzmaurice ;  a  banner  was  solemnly  consecrated ;  Saun- 
ders was  iuvc\>ted  with  the  dignity  of  Legate;  a  holy  benediction 
WAS  pronounced,  and  with  supplies  of  money  the  "  Champions  of 
9ie  faith,  in  defence  of  the  holy  Church  "  were  sent  to  Philip,  who 
iras  to  provide  the  necessary  armament.  After  landing  in  Kerry 
with  eighty  Spaniards,  and  some  English  and  Irish  fugitives,  they 
were  joined  by  the  Earl  of  Desmond,  after  carrying  on  a  most  har- 
rassing  warfare  on  one  occasion,  surprising  and  destroying  200 
Protestant  soldiers.  The  Papal  banner  was  hoisted ;  700  Span- 
iards and  Italians  arrived  as  a  reinforcement,  with  arms  and 
ammunition  for  5000  men,  and  with  a  considerable  sum  of 
money.  The  Papal  troops  defeated  the  Deputy,  Lord 
Grey  at  Glendalough  ;  and  it  was  not  until  a  considerable 
naval  and  military  armament  was  sent  from  England,  that  this  Po- 
pish invasion  was  subdued.  Desmond,  the  chief  of  the  insurrec- 
tion, was  killed  in  a  hut,  to  which  he  had  fled  as  a  fugitive,  by  one 
Kelly,  his  head  was  brought  to  the  Earl  of  Ormond,  who  trans- 
mitted it  to  England,  where   it  was  impaled  on  London  Bridge. 


52  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

The  lands   forfeited  by  Desmond's  rebellion   for  the   Pope,  are 
said  to  have  amounted  to  574,528  acres. 

The  rebellion  of  Tirowen,  commonly  called  Hugh,  Earl  of 
Tyrone,  form  a  prominent  feature  in  the  history  of  Ireland,  like 
all  other  Irish  insurrections  since  the  Reformation,  their  avowed- 
ly chief  object  was  the  supremacy  of  the  Prince-Bishop  of  Rome 
in  Ireland^  and  the  dominance  of  the  Romish  religion.  O'Neill 
was  restored  to  favor  five  times  by  his  acknowledged  sovereign, 
against  whom  he  had  rebelled,  and  Elizabeth  not  only  received 
him  with  distinction  at  her  court,  and  created  him  Earl  of  Tyrone, 
but  so  pressed  her  Deputies  te  be  lenient  towards  him,  that  he 
•was  enabled  to  prosecute  his  great  rebellion  with  almost  final  suc- 
cess. Yet,  even  after  that  terrible  contest,  which  cost  the  Gov- 
ernment over  £  200,000.  James  I.,  restored  him  to  his  lands 
and  honors  ;  after  that  he  rebelled  again,  and  fearing,  very  prop- 
erly, that  he  would  not  receive  forgiveness  any  more,  he  fled  to 
Eome  or  Spain,  and  there  died  when  his  lands  reverted  to  the 
icrown. 

Did  this  conduct  look  like  tyranny  on  the  part  of  the  Brit- 
jsh  Government  1  Let  it  be  remembered  that  the  rebellions  of 
Tyrone,  as  well  as  subsequent  insurrections,  had  not  their  origin 
in  resistance  to  tyranny,  but  in  a  vehement  desire  to  expel  the 
followers  of  Martin  Luther  from  Ireland.  Tyrone  in  one  of  his 
manifestoes,  where  he  says,  "  Let  us  all  join  together  to  deliver 
the  eountrie  from  the  infection  of  heresy^  and  for  the  planting  oj 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion  :  if  I  had  gotten  to  be  King  of  Ireland^ 
U  should  not  except  the  same  without  the  extension  of  the  Catho- 
lic religica."  The  rebellion  of  1641  may  be  taken  as  a  good  ex- 
ample of  how  the  country  was  to  be  "  delivered  from  heresy," 
and  the  "  planting  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion."  Cromwell, 
en  its  suppression,  confiscated  the  lands  of  the  rebels,  and  gave 
them  to  those  who  assisted  in  the  suppression  of  the  most  san- 
i»iunary  bigots  that  ever  lived ;  when  the  monarchy  was  restored, 
the  crown  resigned  all  claims  to  the  forfeited  lands.  But  on 
James  the  II.,  arrival  in   Dublin,   he  assembled  a  Popish  parlia- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  53 

ment,  the  first  act  of  which  was  to  justify  the  rebellion,  or  rather 
the  appalling  massacre  of  the  Protestants  in  1G41  (a  massacre 
that  has  no  parallel  in  the  annals  of  Christian  bigotry,  but  that 
of  St.  Bartholemew.)  The  Act  of  Settlement  was  repealed  ;  the 
estates  of  all  persons  in  England,  Scotland  or  Ireland,  who  would 
not  acknowledge  the  regal  authority  of  James,  were  confiscated, 
an  act  of  attainder  was  passed  by  which  24G1  persons  of  rank  (and 
both  sexes  )  were  attainted  by  name  :  the  property  of  absentees 
was  seized,  as  was  also,  that  ct  Trinity  College.  Any  person 
corresponding  with  another,  who  had  not  acknowledged  the  new 
Popish  authorities,  had  his  lands  confiscated,  to  ascertain  which 
all  letters  in  the  Post-Office  were  previously  opened,  and  to  such 
a  height  was  the  rigor  against  the  Irish  Protestants  carried,  that 
they  were  not  allowed  to  meet  in  greater  numbers  than  two  at  a 
time.  In  all  the  correspondence,  of  the  rebel  leaders,  it  was  still 
insisted  that  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  should  be  the  established, 
exclusive,  national  and  only  religion  in  Ireland-  The  war  was  not 
therefore  merely  against  English  rule,  or  for  ambitious  objects. 
It  was  a  war  of  religion,  and  the  effects  of  it  amply  illustrates  the 
absolute  necessity  of  the  penal  laws,  which  were  only  brought  in- 
to effective  operation  when  life  and  property  were  no  lot<ger  se- 
cure for  those  who  diflfered  from  the  Romish  faith. 

As  a  specimen  of  the  pure  patriotism  entertained  by  the  Irish 
"  patriots,"  it  may  be  stated  that  when  they  took  several  forts 
it  was  asserted  that  they  were  *^.Jield  for  Christ  and  the  king  of 
Spain^''  the  cant  phrase  of  "  Ireland  for  the  Irish  "  meant  nothing 
more   than  "  Ireland  for  the  Pope." 

The  Romish  Archbishop  of  Armagh,  nanried  Magauran,  was 
one  of  the  principle  agents  of  the  Pope  for  exciting  the  Irish  pa- 
pists to  massacre  the  Protestants.  This  warlike  prelate  was  killed 
in  Connaught,  where  he  had  gone  to  organize  the  forces  of  Tyrone ; 
so  also  was  a  Romish  Vicar  Apostolic,  named  Mc.Egan,  who  is- 
sued excommunications  against  all  who  should  give  any  quarter 
to  Protestant  prisoners.     This  member   of  the  Church   Militant 


3^ 


64  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

was  killed  in   battle  while  leading  on  a  troop  of  cavalry  with  a 
sword  in  one  hand  and  a  breviary  and  beads  in  the  other  ! 

The  Popes  have  granted  three  or  four  Bulls  to  the  different 
parties  that  have  been  concerned  in  the  several  Irish  Protestant 
massacres.  These  Bulls  gave  "  plenary  pardons,  and  remission 
for  all  their  sins,"  to  those  who  would  follow  the  Papal  army  of 
Tyrone,  who  were  described  as  "  the  assertors  and  champions  of  the 

Catholic  faithy 

The  real  friends  of  Ireland  have  been  Cromwell,  and  William 
of  Orange,  those  great  men  saw  at  once  through  the  folly  of  pa- 
tronizing a  system  which  had  no  toleration  for  anything  but  it- 
self. 


Letter  IX. 

Tlie  American  Revolution,  and  the  assistance  rendered  to  it  by  the 
Irish  Northmen  or  Protestant-Irish. 

"We  are  often  told  that  Catholic  Ireland  furnished  the  men  of 
the  Pennsylvania  company  of  volunteers  in '76.  Now,  suchastate- 
me2it  is  utterly  at  variance  with  recorded  facts  ;  for  though  five- 
sixths  of  the  men  were  Irish,  they  were  from  Protestant  Ireland, 
being  the  Ulster  Scots  from  Down  and  Antrim;  a  class  pre-emi- 
nently noted  for  all  that  love  of  liberty  which  characterized  their 
Scottish  forefathers  at  Bannockburn  and  Drumclog,  from  the  days 
of  Bruce  to  Cameron,  and  their  fathers  at  Derry,  and  the  Boyne, 
and  was  exemplified  by  them  in  the  ranks  of  the  American  Pa- 
triot Army  of  1776.  Those  men  were  Irish  by  birth,  and  heriditary 
descent  for  more  than  four  generations.  They  lived  under  the  same 
government,  laws,  and  local  institutions  as  their  fellow  country- 
men ;  yet  between  them  there  existed  the  greatest  possible  differ- 
ence. The  Scotch  Irish  dwelt  in  a  comparitively  sterile  region 
with  few  natural  advantages  ;  yet,  they  were  not  inferior  in  skill, 
industry,  intelligence  and  comfort  with  a  due   appreciation  of  re- 


IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  55 

li'gious  and  moral  freedom,  and  the  blessings  of  constitutional  lib- 
erty to  the  people  of  any  country.  They  combined  in  a  great 
degree  the  prudential  thrift  and  commercial  activity  of  the  Scotch ; 
the  persevering  industry  and  indomitable  self  reliance  of  the  Eng- 
lish, with  the  buoyant  feelings  and  generous  impulses  of  Irishmer^ 
The  Royal  Artillery,  the  finest  military  corps  in  the  world  b 
reason  of  its  professional  skill,  excellent  discipline,  and  high  mar 
tial  bearing,  is  composed  exclusively  of  those  men.  Their  stern 
love  of  truth  and  probity  is  such  that  they  are  styled  at  home  th» 
"  sturdy  northerns." 

That  same  spirit  is  still  retained  by  their  descendants  in  all 
lands  wherever  their  lot  has  been  cast.  They  are  devoutly  at- 
tached to  the  Presbyterian  faith  of  their  fathers,  and  are  always 
found  among  the  warmest  supporters  of  civil  and  religious  liberty. 
Whilst  claiming  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  it  for  themselves,  they 
never  deny  that  inestimable  privilege  from  others  differing  with 
them,  but  are  ever  ready  to  assist  in  its  universal  adoption. 
Gen.  Montgomery,  who  fell  at  the  seige  of  Quebec,  was  of  this 
race,  being  from  Belfast,  Antrim,  Ireland.  Gen.  Jackson,  the  he- 
ro of  New  Orleans,  was  born  shortly  after  the  arrival  of  his  pa- 
rents from  Carrickfergus,  the  old  shire  town  of  Antrim.  The 
Daily  Times,  in  an  editorial  on  emigration  last  winter  said  :  "  II 
was  the  warm  blood  of  the  Scotch  Irish  that  lent  a  terror  to  the 
Kentucky  riflemen  on  the  field  of  battle." 

All  unprejudiced  minds  will  be  open  to  the  historical  fact 
that  Ireland  has  contributed  more  to  the  population  of  the  Uni- 
ted States  than  any  other  nation.  In  1646  Irish  Presbyterians 
emigrated  to  the  American  colonies  in  large  numbers.  In  1729, 
the  historian  Dobbs,  mentions  that  no  fewer  than  3000  males  left 
Ulster  yearly  for  the  colonies. 

If  we  refer  to  the  colony  of  Pennsylvania  we  find,  that  in 
1699,  James  Logan  of  Lurgan,  in  Ulster,  with  a  colony  of  his 
friends,  accompanied  William  Penn  to  his  new  Plantation.  The 
colony  was  governed  by  Logan  for  two  years ;  during  which  he 
enriched  its  capital   and  bequeathed   the  First  Public  Library, 


56  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS- 

Philadelphia  ever  possessed.  In  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  the 
traveller  will  find  the  townships  of  Derry,  Donegall,  Tyrone,  Col- 
eraine  and  others  of  Irish  northern  origin.  In  1729  the  Irish  emi- 
gration to  that  colony  was  ten  times  more  than  that  of  all  other 
countries  put  together.  Another  governor  of  Pennsylvania,  in  its 
early  days,  was  Thomas  Vaughan,  a  native  of  Lisburn  ;  to  him 
Penn  wrote  stating  that  the  colony  had  been  scandalized  at  home 
by  reports  of  a  public  celebration  of  the  Mass,  and  advising  him 
to  look  after  the  same,  which  was  duly  attended  to. 

During  the  American  Revolution  the  Irish  people  threw  their 
entire  weight  in  favor  of  the  colonists.  The  Irish  House  of  Com- 
mons, exclusively  Protestant,  refused  to  vote  any  aid  for  the  war. 
The  Irish  in  England,  headed  by  Burke,  Barre  and  Sheridan  spoke 
and  wrote  in  favor  of  America.  In  1776  the  American  Congress 
adopted  an  address  to  the  Irish  people  in  which  they  drew  a 
marked  distinction  between  the  British  and  Irish  Parliament.  In 
their  address  they  say  "  Your  Parliament  has  done  us  no  wrong. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  written  by  Benjamin 
Franklin  to  Thomas  Cushing  at  Boston  dated  London,  January, 
1773,  will  serve  as  an  illustration  of  the  fact.  In  it  he  says  : — 
"  Before  leaving  Ireland  I  must  mention  that  being  desirous  of  see- 
ing the  principal  patriots  then.  I  stayed  till  the  opening  of 
their  Parliament"  I  found  them  disposed  to  be  friends  of 
America,  in  which  I  endeavored  to  confirm  them,  with  the  expec- 
tation that  our  growing  weight  might,  in  time,  be  thrown  into 
their  scale,  and  by  joining  our  interest  with  theirs  a  more  equita- 
ble treatment  from  this  nation  might  be  obtained  for  them  as  well 
as  for  us.  There  are  many  brave  spirits  among  them.  The  gen- 
try are  a  very  sensible,  polite  and  friendly  people.  Their  Parlia- 
ment makes  a  most  respectable  figure,  with  a  number  of  very 
good  speakers  on  both  parties,  and  able  men  of  business."  He 
then  goes  on  to  relate  an  act  of  personal  courtesy  extended  to- 
wards him  by  the  House  in  his  admission  to  a  seat  during  the  de- 
bates— it  having  been  a  standing  rule  to  admit  no  one  but  English 
Members  within  the  bar.     By  a  unanimous  aye,  given  on  that  oc- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  O* 

casion,  the  American  Assemblies  were  considered  as  English  Par- 
liaments, and  the  same  privileges  extended  towards  their  Mem- 
bers. 

The  first  Governor  of  Pennsylvania,  under  the  Republic,  was 
George  Bryan,  a  native  of  Dublin.  In  1771,  John  Dunlap,  a  na- 
tive of  Strabane,  issued  the  "Pennsylvania  Packet,"'  the^^?s/ dai- 
ly  paper  published  in  America ;  he  was  afterwards  printer  to  the 
first  Congress,  and  first  published  in  his  columns  the  Declaration 
of  Independence.  In  1774  Charles  Thompson,  of  Maghera,  was 
chosen  Secretary  of  the  first  Congress,  which  office  he  retained, 
until  1789.  It  was  he  that  wrote  out  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence from  Jefferson's  draft ;  which  he  drew  from  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  drawn  up  and  signed  one  year  previously  by  the 
Irish  Presbyterians  at  Mecklenburg.  It  was  through  him  that 
Franklin  received  his  instructions,  and  that  Washington  was  in- 
formed of  his  Presidential  election. 

In  1776  two  Irishmen,  Major  John  Sullivan,  and  John  Langdon, 
with  a  few  of  their  Irish  townsmen  surprised  the  fort  of  New  Cas- 
tle, took  the  Captain  and  five  men,  one  hundred  barrels  of  gun- 
powder, fifteen  light  cannon,  and  the  entire  guns  which  did  such 
service  at  Bunker  Hill.  There  are  many  who  speak  as  if  Irish- 
men had  never  done  anything  towards  the  cause  of  Independence. 
To  such  we  would  ask — Did  Thomas  Cargill,  a  native  of  Bally- 
shannon,  do  nothing  for  the  town  of  Concord  1  Did  the  Irish  set- 
tlement of  New  Hampshire  do  nothing?  Then,  why  do  we  read 
of  a  General  Starke,  Col.  Moore,  Col.  Eeed,  Major  John  GoflTe, 
Capt.  Thomas  Mc.Loughlin,  Lieut.  John  Patten,  with  some  forty 
or  fifty  others  in  the  same  place,  all,  of  whom,  done  good  service 
in  the  cause  of  Independence. 

At  the  first  Council  of  War,  held  at  Cambridge,  two  of  the 
Brigadier  Generals,  Richard  Montgomery  and  John  Sullivan, 
were  Irishmen  ;  fully  one-third  of  the  active  Chiefs  were  of  Irish 
origin.  Henry  Knox,  who  became  the  first  master  of  the  ordnance, 
was  born  of  Irish  parents. 

In  New  York,  Col.  James  Clinton.  Col.  James  McCleary,  Gen, 


58  IRISH    PKOTESTANT    LETTKRS. 

Montgomery,  and  Gen.  Clinton — all  Irishmen,  are  too  well  Known 
to  require  any  further  notice. 

In  Pennsylvania  Col.  Anthony  Wayne,  Col.  William  Irving, 
Col.  William  Thompson,  Col,  Stephen  Moylan,  Col.  Richard  But 
ler,  were  all  Irishmen.  In  addition  to  these  may  be  mentioned 
Brigadier  General  Hand. 

In  the  navy  we  find  the  illustrious  names  of  Commodore  Bar- 
ry, Capts.  Blakeley,  McGee,  O'Brien,  McDonough,  Mease  and 
Lieuts.  Murray,  Dale,  Decatur  and  Stewart. 

Of  the  fifty  six  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
eight  were  Irish  by  birth  or  descent.  Of  the  thirty  six  Delegates 
by  whom  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  was  promulgated 
in  1787  six  at  least  were  Irish. 

President  Polk  was  of  Irish  origin,  so  was  John  C.  Calhoun, 
and  so  is  Gen.  Cass.  Gen.  Shields,  Senator  from  Illinois,  who  dis- 
tinguished himself  through  the  entire  Mexican  war  is  a  Protestant 
Irishman. 

The  first  Judge  of  Probate  in  New  Hampshire  after  the  Rev- 
olution was  the  Hon  Mathew  Patten  an  Irishman.  In  Kentucky, 
alongside  with  Daniel  Boone  we  find  a  Major  Hugh  McGrady, 
Harland,  McBride,  McConnel  and  Chaplain.  In  1775,  we  find 
James  and  Robert  McAfee,  Benjamim  Logan,  Simon  Butler,  Mc. 
Lellan  and  one  Hogan  all  Irishmen  of  renown.  If  we  turn  to  men 
of  science  and  literature  we  find  Ireland  supplying  her  share. 
Who  has  not  heard  of  Tennent,  Finley,  Allisons,  Thompson,  Ram- 
say, Sullivan,  Collis,  Fulton,  Adrian,  Wylie,  Smyth,  McGill,  Mur- 
ray and  others  too  numerous  to  mention  all  these  were  Irish  by 
birth  or  descent. 

There  is  one  fact  of  which  we  very  seldom  hear  from  politic- 
ians,and  that  is.  Catholic  Ireland  die? furnish  O'Reilly's  legion,  which 
deserted  the  stars  and  stripes  on  the  plains  of  Mexico  in  the  day 
of  battle.  This  case  is  very  seldom  brought  forward  by  parties 
who  trade  for  the  "  rich  Irish  brogue"  and  the  •'  sweet  German  ac- 
cent. 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


59 


Letter  X. 

The  Apostohc  character  of  the  ancient  Irish  and  British  Churches, 
with  some  account  of   the   introduction  of    Christianity  into  the 
.  British  Islands. — Ireland  the  seat  of  Religion  and  Learning  he- 
fore  the  introduction  of  Popery  ly  the  Anglo  Saxon. — Her  future 
prospects  through  the  restoration  of  her  ancient  faith. 

As  an  Irishman  it  is  sad  to  return  to  my  own  dear  native 
land,  fairest  Isle  of  the  sea,  once  so  interesting  and  so  noble,  and 
over  which  never  soared  the  proud  Eagles  of  ancient  Rome, 
even  in  the  plenitude  of  their  power  ;  yea,  she  sent  her  legions  in- 
to Britain  and  Gaul,  and  frequently  assisted  the  ancient  Britons 
and  Gauls  to  defeat  their  common  enemy,  Imperial  Rome,  and  to 
^  witness  her  degraded  condition  for  the  last  seven  hundred  years, 
all,  caused  by  the  satanic  foreign  influence  of  modern  Rome. 

The  earliest  and  most  accurate  ecclesiastical  writers  are  of 

opinion  that  St.  Paul  was  the  founder  of  Christianity  in  the  Brit- 
ish Isles.  Joseph,  of  Arimathea,  it  is  said,  sailed  from  Judea  to 
Marseilles,  and  crossing  France  proceeded  to  the  British  Isles,  and 
there  preached  the  Gospel  A.  D.  64.  Origin,  writing  about  the 
year  A.  D.  234,  remarks:  "The  power  of  God,  our  Savior,  is 
even  with  them  who  are  in  Britain  shut  out  from  the  world." 
Tertullian,  writing  during  the  same  century  mentions  "  places  in 
the  British  Isles  inaccessible  to  the  Romans,  but  which  had  become 
subject  to  the  dominion  of  Christ."  Eusebius,  who  lived  A.  D. 
325,  observes  that  "  some  of  the  Apostles  crossed  the  ocean  to 
the  British  Isles."  Chrysostom,  in  one  of  his  letters,  about  the 
A.  D.  390,  says,  "  Although  thou  didst  go  unto  the  ocean  and  those 
British  Isles." 

Ireland,  the  "Juverna"  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  ''Hibernia"  of  the 
Romans,  the  "  Insula  Sacra,"  and  "  Insula  Sanctorum"  of  the 
early  Christian  writers,  was  at  one  time  the  nucleus  of  Religion 
and  Learning  in  Europe.     From  the  fifth   to  the  tenth  century, 


CO 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


she  sent  her  missionaries  (not  Romish  priests,  by  any  means,  but 
pious  gospel  preachers)  to  England,  Scotland,  Erance  and  Ger- 
many, among  the  Angles,  Saxons,  Picts,  Gauls,  and  Franks.  In 
one  of  her  asylums  of  learning  at  Armagh,  under  the  pious  Cul- 
dees,  was  educated  the  good  Saxon  King ,  Alfred  the  Great. 
The  Venerable  Anglo  Saxon  Bede  informs  us  that  "  some  natives 
of  England  both  noble  and  lower  rank  retired  to  Ireland,  to  pur. 
sue  a  course  of  sacred  studies,  and  to  lead  a  stricter  life."  On 
this  Ledwick  remarks:  "So  zealous  and  disinterested  a  love  of 
learning  is  unparalled  in  the  annals  of  the  world." 

The  ancient    inhabitants  of  Ireland  from  the  first   to  the 
twelfth  century  were  called  Scoti  or  Scots  and  the   ancient  seat 
of  their  power  appears  to  have  been  Dalriada,  on  the  north-east 
coast,  now  the  County  of  Antrim,  from  a  colony    which  left  that 
place    about  the  middle  of  the  third  century  nnder  Fergus,  the  son 
of    Erick,  and  settled  inArgyleshire,  Scotland,  Caledonia  received 
the  name  of  Scots  and  Scotland.     Twenty-eight  of  these  Dalriadic 
kings  reigned    successively  in  Argyle    where   the  old   tower  of 
Dunstaffnage  is  said  to  have  been  their   chief  residence.     Kenneth 
McAlpine,   king  of    Scotland,   was  the    twenty-ninth  in    descent 
from  Fergus    the  County  of  Antrim  Chief;    from  him  came  the 
House  of  Stuart  which  is  now  merged  into   the  present  rightful 
Sovereign  of  Great  Britain.     As  to  the  ancient  Irish  Scots  we  are 
informed  that  Killien,  a  celebrated  Irishman  in  the  seventh  cen- 
tury, went  as  a  missionary  to  Germany,  and  became  first  bishop 
of  Wurtzburgh   and  apostle  of  Franconia.     In   his  life,   quoted 
by  Lannigan  his  country  is  called  Scotia  in  the  following :  ^^Sco- 
tia  quae  et  Hibernia   dicitur  insula  est  maris  oceani  fecunda  quidem 
glebis  sed  sanctissimis  clarior  viris,''^  or  "Scotia  which  is  also  called 
Ireland,    is  an   island  in  the   main  ocean  of  a  very    fertile  soil 
but  more  renowned  for  most  holy  men."     The  Venerable   Bede 
in  speaking  of  Ireland  in  the  eighth   century   has  the  following : 
"  hcec   autem  propria   patria    Scotorum  est'^ — "  this  is  the  proper 
country  of  the  Scots."     The  same  venerable  historian,  in  speaking 
of  the  Culdees  of  Ireland,  says  :  "They  preached  only  such  works 


IRISH    PIIOTKSTANT    LETTEKS.  61 

of  piety  and  charity  as  they  could  learn  from  the  prophetical^ 
evangelical,  and  aposlolical  writings."  They  were  much  devoted 
to  the  study  of  the  holy  scripture,  and  taught  their  disciples  to 
conform  their  doctrine  by  testimony  brought  from  this  unpollu- 
ted fountain. 

Christianity  was  first  introduced  amongst  the  Northumbrians 
of  England  by  three  Scots,  natives  of  Ireland,  Aiden,  Fenan  and 
Coleman,  who  belonged  to  the  Columbian  order  and  had  received 
the  Culdee  (or  what  might  now  be  termed  Presbyterian) 
ordination.  The  Culdee  missionaries  remained  in  England  evan- 
gelizing the  natives  until  the  introduction  of  "  foreign  influence," 
by  pope  Gregory,  who  sent  one  Austin  with  forty  monks  to 
*'  convert  the  pagan  Saxons,"  and  subject  the  Culdee  Churches  to 
the  dominion  of  Rome.  We  are  told  by  Bede  that  "  through  the 
Scottish  missionaries  or  those  whom  they  had  instructed  and 
ordained,  the  greatest  portion  of  England  were  converted  to 
■Christianity." 

When  Austin  and  his  monkish  satellites  arrived  and  were 
.Idly  received  by  the  ruling  powers,  the  Culdees  all  gave  up  their 
tharges  rather  than  submit  to  the  corruptions  of  the  Church  of 
Rome,  when  at  the  Council  held  in  Yorkshire  662>matters  were 
.jarriiKl  so  high  in  favor  of  popery  that  they  all  left  England  an^J 
came  back  to  Ireland  their  native  country,  the  "  Insula  Sanctorum'* 
of  the  age. 

After  the  conquest  of  England  by  the  pagan  Saxons,  the  scat- 
tered rsys  of  Christianity  disappeared  from  that  country.  The 
Celts,  oi"  ancient  Britons,  retired  to  the  mountainsof  Cambria  and 
Caledonia.  The  persecutions  which  the  British  Christians  endur- 
ed, were  very  severe.  Cerdicus,  first  king  of  the  West  Saxons, 
(Hampshire  Devonshire  &c.,)  after  a  successful  battle  with  the 
Britons  at';  Winchester  A.  D.  495,  killed  all  the  clergy  belonging 
to  the  church  of  St.  Amphialus,  and  turned  it  into  an  idolatrous 
temple.  For  more  than  two  centuries  after  the  arrival  of  the 
Saxons,  England  became  a  land  of  gross  idolatry.  They  had  gods 
for  every  day  in  the  week  ;  and  after  those  gods  were  the  days 


02  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

of  the  week  named  as  follows :  Sun's  daeg  (Sunday)  Moon's  daeg 
(Monday)  Tuesco'sdaeg  (Tuesday)  Woden's  daeg  (Wednesday) 
Thor's  daeg  (Thursday)  Friga'sdaeg(Friday)Seatur's  daeg  (Satur- 
day.) 

After  the  conversion  of  the  Saxon  English  to  Christianity,  by 
missionaries  sent  from  the  Irish  church,  they  shortly  afterwards 
fell  away  into  Popery,  and  expelled  from  England  even  those  of 
their  own  race,  who  adhered  to  the  Apostolic  faith  of  the  ancient 
Britons. 

Before  quitting  this  branch  of  the  subject,  it  may  be  necessa- 
to  observe,  that  the  early  British  and  Irish  churches  were  closely 
united  in  doctrines;  and  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge, are  said  to  have  been  originally  established,  or  refounded, 
by  distinguished  and  pious  Irishmen,  who  then  held  much  and  de- 
served influence  in  England.  Johannes  Scotus  Erigena,  was  in- 
vited over  by  King  Alfred,  A.  I>.  883. 

The  physical  contest  between  the  British  and  Saxon  races  was 
succeeded  by  contentions  between  the  Saxon  church,  and  that  of 
the  British  and  Irish — the  Saxon  claiming  authority  from  the 
Pope,  while  the  latter  denied  all  Romish  pretensions. 

The  British  bishops  on  the  arrival  of  Augustine,  the  Romish 
emissary,  considered  themselves  independent  of  any  foreign  juris- 
diction. Augustine,  aided  by  the  Saxon  king  Ethelbert,  invited 
them  to  a  conference  A.  D.  601,  that  they  might  be  persuaded  to 
acknowledge  Pope  Gregory  which  they  still  refused  to  do  ;  flat- 
tery having  failed,  he  then  threatened  them,  that  ere  long,  they 
should  feel  the  power  of  the  Saxon  swords,  and,  accordingly,  soon 
atter^  Ethelfred  the  Saxon  king  of  Northumberland,  invaded  Wales 
with  great  slaughter,  and,  among  others,  put  to  death  in  cold 
blood,  twelve  hundred  of  the  clergy  at  Bangor !  Such  was  Pope- 
ry twelve  hundred  years  ago!  Laurentius,  who  succeeded  Au- 
gustine, also  endeavored  to  bring  the  British  and  Irish  (then 
called  the  Scots')  Church  under  his  control.  Laurentius  says, "  The 
Irish  differ  not  at  all  from  the  Britons  in  their  habits.  For 
Bishop  Daganus  when  he  came  to  us,  tcovld  not  take  meat  with  vs 


IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  63 

no,  not  so  much  as  in  the  same  lodging  where  we  were  eating^  This 
testimony  given  by  a  Romish  emissary,  deserves  to   be  well   re- 
membered, as  it  proves  the  utter  detestation  in  which  popery 
was  held  in  those  early  ages  by  the  ancient   Irish.     The  fact   is, 
that  the  Orangemen  of  the  present  day,  with  all  their  experience 
of    popery,  are  not  half  as  much  opposed  to  it  as  their  Christian 
forefathers  were  twelve  hundred  years  ago  !  Was  there  not  some- 
thing  prophetic  in  their   uncompromising   hostility  to  popery  ? 
Methinks  I  see  the  venerable  old  men  of  other  times  as  they  look 
through  the  long  vista  of  coming  ages,  and  foresee   the  degrada- 
tion of  their  country.     Those  old  men  in   the  twilight  of  a   well 
spent  life,  as  they  sit  by  their   doors   in  the   evening  shade  and 
speak  to  their  sons  of  days  gone  by.    The  pride  of  their  hearts 
arises  as  they  tell  of  their  country's  glory — her  noble  colleges  and 
schools  of  learning,  through  which  had  graduated  many  of  the 
royal  sons  of  England  and  the  Continent — their  country,  the  land 
of  hospitality  ;  the  abode  of  genius  ;  of  science  ;  of  literature 
and  the  arts.     The  land  of  the  exile,  and  the  home  of  all  who 
fled  from  pagan  or  from  papal  persecution.     The  land  to  which 
flocked  the  literati  of  Europe,  and  where  education  was  free  to  all 
who  came  as  the  ocean's  breath  that  fanned  their  island  home.  — 
But,  in  the  midst  of  all  these  pleasing  realities,  a  dark  cloud  was 
beginning  to  rise  from  the  east.     In  the  light  of  Scripture,  they 
behold  the  coming  of  Antichrist,  and  the  overthrow  of  their  na- 
tional greatness.     According  to  the  testimony  of  one  of  the  early 
fathers,  the  man   who  should   declare  himself  to   be   Universal 
Bishop  was  the  forerunner  of  Antichrist.     That  man  had  actually 
appeared  in  the  person  of  Boniface  III.    Two  agents  of  Antichrist 
with  a  number  of  followers  had  arrived  in  England.     The  Saxons  . 
of  that  country,  who  had  but  lately  renounced  paganism  through 
the  instrumentality  of  the  Irish  missionaries,  were  now  fast  falling 
away  into  Romish  error.     The  word  of  God  was  made  of  none 
effect  by  their  traditions,  and  the  general  or  Catholic  Apostacy  had 
commenced  ! 

The  hostility  of  the  Ancient  Britons  to  Romish  error  isstili* 


<)4  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

further  exemplified  by  the  following  stanza,  translated  from  the 
Welch  of  Taliesin,  Chief  of  the  Bards,  who  wrote  about  A.  D. 
620.  It  is  from  the  "  Chronicles  of  Wales  "  quoted  by  Archbish- 
op Ussher,  in  his  "  Religion  of  the  Ancient  Irish" 

"  Woe  be  to  that  priest  yboni, 
That  will  not  cleanly  weed  his  com, 

And  preach  his  charge  among ! 
Woe  be  to  that  shepherd,  I  say, 
That  will  not  watch  his  fold  alway 

As  to  his  office  doth  belong  t 
Woe  be  to  him  that  doth  not  keep 
From  Romish  ico/res  his  sheep. 

With  staff  and  weapon  str>ng !" 

Wilfrid,  a  Romish  priest,  was  chosen  Archbishop  of  York 
A.  D.  GG4,  but  at  first  declined  the  office  lest  he  should  receive 
his  consecration  from  those  who  had  been  ordained  by  the  Irish 
Bishops,  whose  communion  the  Pope  rejected  The  rejection  was 
reciprocal.  Aldhelm,  Abbot,  of  Malmesburj ,  by  direction  of  a 
synod  of  bishops,  wrote,  in  a  letter  still  ext'^nt,  to  Geruntius. 
King  of  the  Britons  in  West  Wales,  or  Cornwall,  A.  D.  090, 
urging  a  union  between  the  British  and  Roman  Churches,  he  shows 
in  most  forcible  language,  the  utter  contempt  and  abhorrence 
which  the  British  and  Irish  churches,  had  for  the  professors  of  Ro- 
mish doctrines.  His  language  is  very  remarkable  :  "  The  British 
priests  on  the  other  side  of  the  channel  of  the  Severn;  puffed  up 
with  a  conceit  of  the  peculiar  purity  of  their  own  conversation, 
do  utterly  abominate  the  thought  of  communion  with  us,  insomuch 
that  they  will  not  condeseend  either  to  join  in  prayers  with  us  at 
church,  or  to  sit  at  meat  with  us  at  the  same  table,  in  the  kindly 
intercourse  of  society  :  nay,  the  very  fragments  that  remain  of 
our  dishes,  and  what  is  left  after  our  refreshments,  they  throw 
out  to  be  eaten  by  their  gluttenous  dogs  and  filthy  pigs.  The 
vessels  too,  and  cups  which  we  use,  they  take  care  to  have 
scoured  and  purified,  either  with  sandy  clay  from  the  gravel  pit, 
or  with  yellow  ashes  from  their  cinders.  They  cannot  bring  them- 
selves to  salute  us  peaceably.  But,  further,  if  any  of  our  people, 
that  is,  the  Catholic  party,  will  go  to  them  for  the  purpose  of  liv- 
ing among  them,  they  do  not  condescend   to  admit  such  persons 


IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  65 

to  their  company,  and  society,  until  they  are   forced  to  perform  a 
quarantine  of  forty  days  penance"! 

Bede,  writing  A.  D.  731,  says  that  "  even  to  this  day  it  is 
the  msniner  of  the  Britons  to  entertain  a  contempt  for  the  faith 
and  religion  of  the  English,  and  to  hold  no  more  intercourse  with 
them  of  any  sort  than  they  would  with  Pagans." 

The  historian,  Hume,  adverts  to  the  acknowledged  indepen- 
dence and  self-control  of  the  ancient  Christian  Church  of  Ireland. 
He  says — '■'■  The  Irish  followed  the  doctrines  of  their  first  teachers 
and  never  acknowledged  any  subjection  to  the  See  of  Rome.''''  Bede 
tells  us  that  the  celebrated  Colmar,  an  Irishman,  who  was  bishop 
of  Lindisfefne  ;  was  called  upon  at  a  council  to  dispute  the  point 
of  the  celebration  of  Easter.  Colmar  argued  thus  : — "  This  Eas- 
ter, which  I  used  to  observe,  I  received  from  my  Elders  who  sent 
me  bishop  hither,  which  all  our  fathers,  men  beloved  of  God,  are 
known  to  have  celebrated  after  the  same  manner,  which, 
that  it  may  not  seem  unto  any  to  be  contemned  and  rejected,  is 
the  same  which  the  blessed  Evangelist  St.  John,  the  disciple  espe- 
cially beloved  of  the  Lord,  with  all  the  churches  that  he  did  over- 
see, is  read  to  have  celebrated.  I  marvel  how  such  men  call  that 
absurd  in  which  we  follow  the  example  of  s.o  great  an  Apostle,  one 
who  was  thought  worthy  of  reposing  on  the  bosom  of  his  Lord 
and  can  it  be  believed  that  our  venerable  father  Columbkill  and 
his  successors  would  have  thought  or  acted  contrary  to  the  sacred 
writings  1 "  While  Colmar  defended  the  church  of  Ireland,  Wil- 
frid defended  the  Romish  system.  Fridogenus  a  Romish  histo 
rian,  informs  us  that  Colmar  further  added : — "  We  abide  by  the 
custom  of  our  fathers,  which  was  given  to  us  by  Polycarp  the  disciple 
of  St.  John." 

It  would  be  unnecessary  to  multiply  farther  instances  to  prove 
that  the  ancient  Irish  and  British  churches  were  truly  Apostolic — 
that  is,  held  the  pure  and  primitive  faith  of  the  Apostles,  and  de- 
nied all  Romish  pretensions.  The  Irish  church  held  out  more 
vigorously  against  Romish  error  than  either  the  British  or  Sax- 
on churches.     The  latter  voluntarily  acknowledged  Popery  in  the 


60 


IRISH    PROTJESTANT    LETTKR'9 


seventh  century.    The  British  held  out  for  two  centuries  later, 
and  the  Irish  church  until  the  twelfth  century. 

It  may  now  be  asked  how  has  Ireland  become  so  popish  and 
as  a  consequence  so  degraded.  It  can  be  said  that  she  was  the 
last  country  in  Europe  that  acknowledged  the  papal  supremacy. 
It  was  not  until  the  year  1172  that  popery  was  introduced  into 
Ireland  on  the  edge  of  the  Saxon  sword  and  the  point  of  the  Nor- 
man spear  under  the  Anglo  Norman  king  Henry  11,  by  the  "spir- 
itual" advice  of  his  countryman,  one  Nicholas  Brakspeare,  eccelesi- 
astically  known  as  Pope  Adrian  the  IVth,  this  pair  agreed  for 
their  mutual  advantage  as  to  the  annexation  principle.  In  the 
first  place  Henry  was  to  conquer  Ireland  in  order  (to  use  the 
■words  of  the  papal  Bull,)  "  to  extend  the  bounds  of  the  Church"  (of 
Rome) ;  after  having  done  so  he  was  to  compel  each  Irish  family 
to  pay  "  one  carolus  annually  to  the  See  of  Rome;  "  it  was  thus 
that  popery  was  introduced  into  Ireland. 

Ireland,  that  was  once  the  glory  of  all  lands,  and  the  evan- 
gelist of  Europe,  has,  since  the  introduction  of  "foreign  influence" 
by  popery,  become  a  by-word  a  hissing  and  a  proverb  among  all 
nations ;  but  still  ,with  all  the  desolation  that  has  encompassed 
her  for  the  last  seven  hundred  years,  I  believe  that  she  shall  yet 
stand  forth  in  these  last  days  with  all  that  pristine  beauty  and 
grandeur  which  so  distinguishad  her  during  the  early  Christian 
ages.  For  though  her  evils  have  been  numerous  as  the  shamrock 
of  the  valley,  and  have  enshrouded  her  as  the  mist  on  her  moun- 
tain tops,  they  have  all  been  caused  by  popish  superstition.  Al- 
ready do  I  see  a  resurrection  among  the  dry  bones,  for  the  ban 
ner  of  Reformation  in  the  hands  of  the  Scots  Irish,  the  sons  of 
Knox,  descended  from  the  old  Irish  Scots,  is  being  unfurled  on 
the  hills  and  plains  of  Connemara,  even  down  to  Kerry,  and  may 
the  same  success  attend  it  which  followed  the  blue  banner  of  the 
Covenant  on  the  hills  of  Scotland,  then  shall  the  days  of  her 
mourning  be  ended,  for  Popery  is  a  disgrace  to  any  nation. 

The  Protestant  faith  is  now  gaining  ground  rapidly  in  Ireland, 
more  so  than  at  any  previous  time  since  the  great   Reformation, 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  fff 

Both  England  and  Scotland  are  now  sending  over  missionaries  for 
the  advancement  of  that  desirable  work,  and  the  sons  of  Ulster 
are  also  aiding  the  same  cause.  With  1848  ended  the  last  would 
be  rebellion  in  Ireland — it  was  the  last  struggle  of  Popery,  and 
proved  a  farcical  failure. 


letter  XI. 

Irish  degeneration  in  modern  times,  the  natural  result  of  Poperp. 
English  regeneration  within  the  last  three  hundred  years  ;  the  naivh 
ral  resvlt  of  Protestantism : 

Need  1  refer  the  reader  to  unhappy  priest-ridden  Ireland, 
which  has  so  long  drank  to  the  dregs  the  bitter  cup  of  Popery, 
Her  degradation  as  a  nation  has  fully  corresponded  with  her  devo- 
tion to  the  Romish  faith,  and  her  ancient  glory  has  become  extinct 
through  Ihnt  very  means  ;  her  bards  may  sing 
"  Let  Erin  remember  the  days  of  old." 

But  still  there  is  a  lifelessness  in  that  body  politic  which -evea, 
the  sweetest  music  cannot  resuscitate.  The  spirit  of  her  people 
rest  not  in  the  land  of  their  fathers,  but  is  bound  in  servile  sub- 
jection beneath  the  foot-stool  of  the  long-discovered  Antichrist 
ofRome,  that  great  destroyer  of  the  nations.  They  have  indeed 
drank  deeply  of  the  cup  which  has  so  long  deceived  the  world. 

In  that  ancient  land  of  Brehons   and  Bards  can  now  ooly  he 
said  : 

"  The  harp  that  once  thro'  Tara's  halls 

The  soul  of  music  shed  ; 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tasa's  walls 

As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 

So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days 

So  glory's  thrill  is  o'er  ; 
And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise 

Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more." 

Her  "  patriots,"  so  called,  have  all  with  scarcely   an  exeep- 


ISS  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

tion  overlooked  the  great  original  cause  of  all  her  misery — her  de- 
Totion  to  an  idolatrous  soul-destroying  system  of  worship  which 
ias  prostrated  the  native  energy  of  her  people  and  turned  it  into 
a  channel  disgraceful  to  humanity.  What  advantage  is  it  now  to  be 
toldof  the  achievements  of  Conn  of  the  Hundred  Battles,  the  Red 
Branch  Knights  of  Ulster  and  Niall  of  the  Nine  Hostages,  down  to 
the  days  of  Brian  Boroihme ;  have  not  all  of  these  disappeared  with 
thelight  of  former  days.  As  a  matter  of  history,  the  events  with 
which  these  names  are  associated  all  transpired  during  her  Druidic 
and  early  Christian  ages  ;many  centuries  before  the  national  intro- 
duction of  Popery,  the  way  for  which,  however,  was  well  paved  by 
the  different  colonies  of  Danes  who  migrated  thither  from  the 
eighth  to  the  tenth  century,  after  having  adopted  Romish  rites  in 
England. 

What  a  perfect  display  of  foolishness  there  is  constantly  man- 
ifested on  the  part  of  those  self-constituted  demagogues  who  are 
ever  prating  about  English  injustice,  Saxon  tyranny,  &;c,,  as  if 
such  were  the  sole  and  only  causes  of  Irish  misery,  when  they 
have  been  slight  in  comparison  with  those  of  Rome.  Is  it  not  a 
i&ct  patent  on  the  page  of  history  that  England  herself  suffered 
equally  with  Ireland  when  subject  to  Popish  rule,  and  Would 
Jiave  continued  to  do  so  until  the  present  day  had  not  the  glori- 
ous light  of  Protestant  truth  cast  its  invigorating  influence  over 
4h©  minds  of  her  people,  dispelling  those  thick  clouds  of  error 
and  superstition  that  had  so  long  enslaved  the  Saxon  mind  ?  That 
light  was  ushered  in  through  the  person  of  Wicklifte  the  "  bright 
and  morning  star"  of  the  English  Reformation,  and  was  success- 
fally  maintained  against  the  powers  of  darkness,  even  through 
the  iires  of  Smithfield  and  the  despotism  of  the  house  of  Stuart, 
nntil  the  glorious  Revolution  of  1688,  and  the  advent  of  the 
House  of  Orange,  which  settled  on  a  firm  basis  in  Britain,  the 
cfiuse  of  liberty  and  truth,  laying  the  foundation  of  England's 
aubsequent  greatness  and  glory.  It  was  not  the  physical  brave- 
ry of  the  Norman  Plantaganet.  Coeur  de  Lion,  before  whom 
quailed  the  Saracen's  blade,  that  raised  her  to  the  pinnacle  of 


IRISH    PKOTESTANT    LETTERS.  09 

fame  and  enduring  greatness  which  she  has  so  long  maintained 
among  the  nations;  nor  was  it  the  indomitable  courage  displayed  by 
her  victorious  armies  at  Cressy,  Poictiers,  and  Agincourt,  when 
they  fought  with  cross-bows,  broad-swords  and  battle  axes.  No ! 
It  was  after  the  Reformation  that  England  stood  forth  before 
the  nations,  contesting,  and  that  successfully,  the  star  of  Em- 
pire. It  was  the  Reformation  that  gave  us  Shakspeare,  Bacon, 
Milton,  Newton,  and  that  bright  constellation  of  mighty  intellects 
whose  teachings  are  destined  to  be  co-equal  and  co  extensive  with 
the  universality  of  the  Anglo  Saxon  race  and  language  until  time 
shall  be  no  longer.  It  was  the  Reformation  that  crowned  with 
victory  the  fearless  patriots  of  1688,  thereby  preparing  the  way 
during  the  next  88  years  for  the  great  Revolution  of  1776.  It 
was  the  Reformation  that  made  this  country  free,  in  both  a  spiri- 
tual and  temporal  point  of  view  and  in  exact  proportion  with  the 
devotion  of  the  people  to  its  principles  will  be  their  national  ad- 
vancement. It  was  for  want  of  the  Reformation  that  all  Popish 
countries  have  remained  in  the  state  of  ignorance,  mental  blind- 
ness, and  superstition,  by  which  they  are  so  easily  recognized  even 
at  the  present  day. 


Letter  XII. 

Address  to  the  educated  Roman  Catholics — Romanism  as  seen  in 
.    those  countries  where  it  wields  exclusive  and  unbounded  influence. 

In  connection  with  this  subject,  I  take  the  following  from  an  ar- 
ticle addressed  to  the  educated  Roman  Catholics  of  the  British 
Empire,  by  Henri  Gerald  Spillan,  of  Dublin,  and  first  published 
in  a  journal  with  which  the  writer  formerly  corresponded,  "The 
Protestant  Watchman,"  of  that  city,  October,  1848.  After  giving 
a  general  statement  of  European  affairs,  from  the  dismemberment 
of  the  old  Roman  Empire;  in  itself  very  interesting,  but  from  its 


70  IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS. 

length  I  regret  not  being  able  to  give  it.     lie  proceeds  thus ; — 

"And  in  other  respects,  th»  religious  polity  of  ancient  and  mod- 
ern Rome  is  not  dissimilar. 

"The  proud  Empire,  the  conqueror  of  Carthage,  whose  eagles 
kissei  the  blazing  sun  of  Lybia,  and  shone  beneath  the  snowy  skies 
of  Scythia — that  had  woven  into  the  tissue  of  her  Imperial  glory, 
the  broidered  filigree  and  splendor  of  the  voluptuous  Orient,  rev- 
elling at  once  in  the  perfumed  ceremonies  of  Asia,  and  the  refined 
culture  and  more  graceful  philosophy  of  Greece,  whose  standard 
waved  from  the  Pyrennes  to  the  Julian  Alps — the  victor  of  the 
warlike  Gaul,  the  effeminate  native  of  India,  the  barbarian  of  the 
north — the  Empire  before  whose  flag  quailed  the  Scythian  and  the 
sturdy  men  whose  huts  lined  the  Danube — inculcated  on  all  sub- 
ject to  her  sway,  as  the  primary  element  of  her  power,  the  worship 
of  a  false,  but  magnificent  system  of  idolatry,  made  it,  as  did 
Papal  Rome  in  the  plenitude  of  her  power,  when  resistance  to  her 
decrees  was  death  to  those  offending,  the  basis  of  her  dominion,  the 
unfailing  test  of  conquest;  and  it  was  only  in  the  latter  days  of  her 
temporal  dominion,  at  such  a  crisis  as  the  present,  when  her  chains 
are  loosened  and  nations  rise  to  repel  her  manifold  usurpations, 
and  embrace  the  faith  preached  by  Jesus,  that  the  religious  system 
of  which  Rome  was  the  radiating  centre,  the  meteoric  orbit  from 
which  glowed  the  noxious  heat  that  diffused  its  withering  influence 
over  the  human  fkmily,  gradually  died  away,  uncared  for,  scorned 
by  all,  having  no  martyrs,  leaving  no  train  of  light  in  its  wake, 
and  paling  its  ineffectual  fires  before  the  Labarum  of  Constan- 
tine. 

"  It  was  at  such  a  crisis  in  the  world's  history  as  that  of  which 
we  are  spectators. 

"  Nations  had  arisen  in  their  own  might  to  repel  spiritual  bon- 
dage, and  assert  before  Heaven  the  moral  power  that  dwells  with- 
in man  in  every  age,  in  every  clime.  Then,  as  now,  a  soul-des- 
troying system  fettered  the  soul  and  limited  the  natural  hori- 
zon of  the  understanding,  indurated  the  softest  and  most  genial 
Impulses  of  the  human  heart. 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


71 


"As  soon  as  the  spiritual  light  beamed  upon  the  hearts  of  those 
who  had  so  long  walked  in  the  ways  of  darkness,  the  fearful  defor- 
mity ofthe religious  culture  they  had  relinquished,  became  visible; 
they  were  lost  in  amazement,  as  are  the  recent  converts  from  Ro- 
manist error  who  have  embraced  the  pure  religion  of  Christ,  at 
their  supineness,  their  lack  of  intellectual  strength,  almost  uncon- 
scious of  moral  principle,  so  long  dormant;  at  their  own  spiritual 
blindness  in  having  been  the  dupes  of  an  effete  Polytheism,  abound- 
ing in  incredible  tales  and  idle  legends,  which  in  the  religious 
culture  of  ancient  Rome,  constituted  as  they  do  now,  in  mod- 
ern Rome,  the  germs  of  belief  and  faith.  To  any  one  who  is  vers- 
ed in  classical  mythology  and  who  has  read  the  martyrology  of 
the  Romish  Church — the  liquefaction  of  St.  Januarius,  in  a  word, 
the  legends  affixed  in  many  instances  to  the  Diurnal  Office,  of  the 
work  which  it  is  the  bounden  duty,  under  penalty  of  withdrawal 
of  priestly  faculties,  and  suspension  by  the  diocesan,  ofthe  Roman 
Catholic  clergy  to  recite  a  portion  thereof  daily — the  legends  so 
characteristic  of  spiritual  ignorance  clothed  in  very  questionable 
Latinity,  appear  but  paraphrastic  versions — like  the  songs  of  Fath- 
er Prout  and  the  Spanish  ballads  of  Mr.  Lockhart — of  the  more 
ancient  and  classical  fables,  that  in  the  pages  of  the  death- 
less literature  of  Greece  and  Rome,  charmed  the  ear  and  captiva- 
ted the  imagination  in  childhood,  divested,  it  must  be  confessed, 
of  the  sagacious  moral,  and  all  those  delicate  shades  of  beauty  of 
conception  and  expression  the  rich  hues  of  thought  that  redeemed 
much  of  the  coarseness  of  the  more  antique  types  of  celestial  mo- 
rality. 

"  Against  the  debasing  spiritual  supremacy  of  Rome,  so  long 
exercised  with  despotic  power  against  the  best  interests  of  Chris- 
tianity, nations  have  in  our  own  days  risen,  and  once  more  soun- 
ded with  glad  voice  the  tocsin  of  mental  deliverance,  the  echo  of 
which  rings  on  the  banks  ofthe  Rhine  and  amid  the  leafy  groves 
of  the  Sabine  hills. 

"And,  my  friends,  is  it  necessary  for  me  to  give  you  particular 
instances  of  this  feeling,  now  universal  on  the  continent  of  Europe, 


7*5  IKISH    PROTESTANT    LETTER'S 


tLat  floats  across  the  Atlantic,  and  swells,  gathering  vigor  as  it 
travels,  alone  the  Llanos  and  Savannas  of  Spanish  America/  Is 
it  necessary  to  say  that  nations  have  dated  their  social  and  polit- 
cal  decline  in  the  scale  of  civilization  and  moral  grandeur  from 
the  maintenance  of  Romish  error  and  the  dissemination  of  Papal 
principles  !  Is  it  necessary  to  travel  into  the  far  East,  to  survey 
the  immorality  of  Goa  and  the  Portuguese  possesions  where  the 
tares  of  European  idolatry  have  fallen  on  on  a  fruitful  soil,  to  con- 
trast the  rival  cults  of  Buddhism  and  Romanism,  or  mayhap 
in  another  hemisphere  to  witness  the  degeneracy  that  has  befallen 
the  priest-ridden  Empire  of  Montezuma — the  torpor  and  apathy 
that  have  seized  on  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  teeming 
garden  of  beauty — the  inevitable  consequence  of  blind  submission 
to  Romish  ordinances,  framed  for  the  temporal  aggrandizement  of 
a  power '  bursting  with  its  own  plethory,'  to  survey  the  conquest 
of  Mexico  by  a  iiandful  of  Northern  warriors,  girt,  for  the  most 
part,  with  the  golden  armor  of  Biblical  Truth?  Is  it  not  necessary 
1  say,  to  appeal  to  esoteric  examples,  how  striking  soever,  when 
Ireland,  blessed  by  Providence  with  a  benignant  sky,  and  a  prolif- 
ic soil,  rich  in  mineral  wealth,  adorned  with  heathy  mountain,  and 
swelling  woodland,  furnishes  so  vivid  an  example  in  history  of 
the  fearful  results  that  spring  from  the  hateful  system  under  which 
the  Western  Celt  groans,  amid  privation  and  passive  apathy,  and 
that  calm  despair  which  is  unknown  even  to  the  phlegmatic  fatal- 
ist of  Mahommed,  but  which  is  the  result  of  blind  adherence  to 
the  creed  to  which  he  has  wilfully  delivered  the  native  energy  of 
his  understanding,  nay  the  warm  impulses  of  his  heart. 

"Alas!  my  friends,  it  is  not  necessary — unfortunately,  it  is  a 
fact  too  notorious — to  inquire  into  the  causes  which  have  produced 
the  social  agrarian  feuds  and  outrages  that  are  so  unhappily  com- 
mon in  Ireland — that  have  made  that  nation  a  byword  in  Europe- 
an history — that  have  converted  a  glorious  island  of  sunny  ver- 
dure and  beauty  into  an  Aceldema,  a  field  red  with  native  gore, 
that  still  pours  its  cursed  streams  on  her  plains,  and  cries  to  the 
God  of  Heaven  for  vengeance  for  foul  murder!     To  what  cause 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  78 

are  we  to  attribute  the  social  degeneracy  of  that  country  in  the 
scale  of  human  civilization  ?  To  Romanism. 

"  Departed,  indeed,  are  the  purple  glories  of  Rome — vanished 
are  all  her  splendors.  From  the  citadel  on  the  Seven  Hills  no 
longer  rolls  the  bolt  of  vengeance;  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican 
have  subsided  into  the  low  growl  of  sullen  discontent;  the  majes. 
ty  of  the  Pontifical  Caesar  of  "  Christianity,"  the  potentate  who 
erst  swayed  the  world — 

"  Super  Garamantes  et  Indos." 
who  limited  by  his  mere  dictum    the  natural  boundaries  of  re- 
mote empires,  and  hear  it,  ye  followers  of  repeal,  who  generously,  tit 
olden  times,  made  over  Ireland  as  a  free  gift  to  a  Norman  King, 

"  Alas !  my  friends,  how  long  will  moral  blindness  seal  your 
eyes  to  the  effulgent  brightness  of  the  truth  ?  Does  not  the  nat* 
ural  intelligence  that  is  the  attribute  of  a  thinking  mind  tell  yooi 
that  where  vice  of  so  hideous  a  dye  stains  the  character  of  those 
on  whose  word  you  place  undying  trust — that  where  such  prevails, 
religion,  morality  and  Gospel  truth  cannot  abide.  Do  you  not 
perceive  that  the  crazy  vessel  of  Romanism  is  foundering  amid  the 
surf  and  thick  waves  of  its  own  abomination,  not  alone  on  the 
Baltic,  on  the  Atlantic,  on  the  wild  sea  that  girds  like  a  zone  of 
pearls  the  British  Isles,  but  also  on  the  Mediterranean  and  the  un- 
ruffled surface  of  the  Adriatic. 

"  Is  Rome  singular  in  the  disaffection  of  its  inhabitants — their 
detestation  of  a  despotism,  hostile  to  human  improvement  1  Let 
us  glance  at  the  countries  where  like  the  deadly  Opas  tree  the  sys- 
tem flourishes  in  like  rankness  of  vegetation. 

"  I  will  not  allude  to  the  sloth  and  apathy,  the  vice  and  utter 
profligacy,  that  prevade  so  generally  in  the  petty  duchies  and  prin- 
cipalities that  constitute  the  Peninsula  of  Italy,  the  monkish  igno- 
rance, the  popular  disgust,  and  wide-spread  disaffection  that  pre- 
vade Lucca,  Piombino,  Modena,  Tuscany,  Parma  Guastalla,  nor 
is  it  necessary  to  mention  unhappy  priest  ridden  Naples,  over- 
shadowed by  sacredotal  intolerance  and  bigotry,  as  well  as   mo- 


74  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

nastic  vows — where,  as  in  Mexico,  the  priestly  frailties,  joined  to 
the  dissolute  libertinism  of  a  large  number  of  religious  orders,  con- 
stitute the  origin  of  the  recent  pronunciamehtos  and  intestine 
emeuies  that  have  convulsed  the  European  paradise — when  on  the 
temporary  deliverance  of  the  people  from  the  galling  yoke  and  de- 
basing servitude,  imposed  by  mitred  sensualists,  the  whole  nation 
«vinced  their  gratitude  to  God  by  the  instant  expulsion  of  the 
Archbishop  Codes,  the  haughty  confessor  of  the  Bourbon  despots, 
as  well  as  expatriation  from  the  rosy  shores  of  Parthenope,  of  the 
reverend  drones  immersed  in  profligacy,  who  like  the  gryll  migra- 
iorii  of  the  East,  had  so  long  preyed  on  the  vitals  of  Neapolitan 
prosperity,  'taihting  and  poisoning  with  pestiferous  breath,  what 
She  voracious  appetite  could  not  devour.' 

"■"When,  some  time  since,  on  my  return  from  Spain,  where  the 
feeling  of  the  people  is  strong  against  the  revival  and  resuscitation 
of  Papistry,  which  now  lies  entombed  in  the  sepulchre  of  its  for- 
mer orgies — the  famed  Casa  de  Inquisition— -like  the  more  antique 
and  honored  shade  of  Mahometanism  in  the  Alhambra  of  Gran- 
ada— I  visited  Lisbon.  I  happened  to  converse  with  a  priest  ven- 
erable for  his  age  and  literary  attainments.  After  alluding  to  the 
distracted  political  condition  of  Portugal,  the  financial  difficulties 
that  weighed  upon  her  prosperity,  and  the  benefits  to  be  derived 
fiwaa  a  closer  connection  and  alliance  with  Great  Britain,  in  a  mor- 
al point  of  view,  he  said,  in  a  tone  whose  solemnity  and  earnest- 
ness of  cadence,  I  can  still  recall: — 

**  Senhor,  believe  me,  it  is  not  Costo  Cabra  that  we  want — nor 
Palmetta's  restrictive  duties,  nor  Miguel  with  his  monkish  pan- 
derers  and  sacellites — nor  English  fleets,  nor  French  Free  Mason- 
ry and  indifference  to  divine  revelation,  nor  Iberian  alliance — nei- 
ther Terceisa's  protocols,  Saldenha's  Utopia,  nor  Magelhan's  ame- 
Borative  finance.  We  want  spiritual  religion;  we  want  God's 
word — the  Bible. 

"These  words  were  the  solemn  conviction  of  one  who  had  lonji 
perceived  the  evils  that  flowed  from  Papal  doctrine — whorhad  wit- 
nessed the  eventful  phases  of  Lusitanian  history  for  the  last  forty 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  75 

three  years  and  upwards;  who  had  heard  Soult's  cannon,  and  wit- 
nessed the  ravages  of  Junot;  who  had  lived  under  the  tyrannic 
regime  of  Don  Migutl — who  had  beheld  with  grief  the  public  prof- 
ligacy of  Padre  Marco,  the  confessor  of  Maria  de  Gloria,  and  whu 
still  lives  to  rejoice  in  the  spiritual  light  that  is  shining  upon  the 
olive  plains  of  the  Algarve;  for  the  word  of  the  Lord  is  yieldinjr 
a  rich  harvest  In  that  hitherto  benighted  region." 

The  gentleman  from  whose  letter  I  have  taken  the  above  extract 
somewhat  at  length,  was  educated  as  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  inten- 
ded for  the  priesthood;  but  by  Divine  illumination  from  on  high, 
assisting  the  moral  power  that  dwells  within  man,  he  was  enabled 
to  throw  off  the  bonds  that  bound  him — that  chain  the  intellect  and 
enslave  the  soul.  I  was  present  on  that  interesting  occasion,  with 
him,  in  the  parish  Church  of  St.  Thomas,  Dublin,  when  he  with 
several  others  at  the  same  time,  publicly  renounced  the  damnable 
errors  of  Popery  and  embraced  the  religion  of  Christ. 


76  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTER'S 


Ireland :  The  Cradle  of  European  Learning. 


-o- 


BT   REV.    J.    B.    FINLAY,    PH.  D.,  LL.  D.  BROOKLYN,  L.  I. 
O 

Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  bo  dead — 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land: 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned — 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand. 
If  such  their  breathes,  go  mark  him  well, 
For  him  no  minstrel's  raptures  swell. 

High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name- 
Boundless  his  wealth,  as  wish  can  claim; 
Despite  those  titles,  power,  and  pelf. 

The  wretch  concentered  all  in  self — 
Living  shall  forfeit  fair  renown. 
And  doubly  dying  shall  go  down 

To  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung, 

Unwept,  unhonored,  and  unsung. — Scott. 

Fob  centuries,  Ireland  was  the  cradle  of  European  literature. 
When  burning  Sappho  had  ceased  to  sing,  and  Thucydides  to  write 
of  "  The  Isles  of  Greece  " — When  Virgil's  muse  had  ceased  to 
mourn,  and  Livy's  pen  to  write  Rome's  history — When  classic 
literatu/e  was  obliterated  by  the  incursions  of  the  barbarous  Goth, 
the  rude  Ilun,  the  relentless  Alan,  and  the  inhuman  Moslem — 
When  the  whole  Continent  was  almost  a  literary  waste — far  away 
from  the  foot  of  the  Goth  or  the  Cimiter  of  the  Moslem — in 
the  distant  Erin — was  a  pure  literature  cultivated,  which  had 
been  handed  down  from  sire  to  son  for  more  than  a  thousand  years. 
The  scoffer  who  derides  everything  Irish  may  try  to  impugn  these 
statements,  but  the  man  of  intelligence  and  research,  be  he  native 
born  or  foreign,  will  lend  to  them  an  attentive  ear.  What  subject 
can  be  more  interesting  to  an  Irishman  than  the  immortal  trophies 
of  literary  fame  which  were  won  in  former  days  by  his  fatherland? 


IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS.  77 

Let  the  ancient  schools  of  learning  in  Erin  tell  of  Erin's  glory  ! — 
Let  the  Records  of  the  colleges  of  Armagh,  Lismore,  Rctss-Carbary^ 
Clonrad,  Connaught,  Connor,  Bangor,  Mayo,  and  Derry,  but  un- 
fold the  names  of  their  Alumni,  and  they  will  show  the  names  cf 
Europe's  royal  sons  that  were  once  enrolled  as  students  within 
their  hallowed  walls!  Thrice  happy  days  for  Ireland!  More  than 
six  hundred  years  before  the  Christian  era,  a  rich  literature  was 
cultivated  by  the  learned  Irish.  The  Psalters  of  Tara  and  Cashel 
can  furnish  specimens  of  poetic  effusions  that  are  not  surpassed  by 
the  Hebrew,  the  Greeks  or  the  Roman  muses.  According  to  com- 
mon consent,  the  ancient  Irish  cultivated,  in  no  ordinary  degree, 
philosophy,  letters,  and  sacred  Bibliology.  And  from  this  circum- 
stance,  as  well  as  from  the  large  number  of  their  churches,  the 
appelation  given  to  it  was  that  of"  The  Island  of  Saints.'''' 

Indeed  the  literary  fame  of  Ireland  does  not  rest  on  doubtful 
evidence,  but  is  attested  by  the  history  of  Europe.  Scarcely  is 
there  a  spot  in  Europe  that  is  not  sacred  to  Irish  literature. 
The  chief  attraction  of  Irish  schools  consisted  in  their  strict 
discipline  and  thorough  knowledge  of  the  Bible.  The  bio- 
grapher of  St.  Patrick  says :  "that  eminent  christian  was  accus- 
tomed to  expound  the  Bible  for  days  and  nights  together 
unto  the  people."  O  that  the  self  called  followers  of  St.  Patrick 
were  now  not  only  to  imitate  his  virtues  but  to  inculcate  his  prac- 
tices !  St.  Columba,  another  eminent  irishman,  supported  all  his 
doctrines  by  proofs  from  the  Sacred  volume.  Dr.  Lannigan  in- 
forms us  that  in  St.  Senan's  time  a  vessel  arrived  in  Cork  "bring- 
ing fifty  religious  persons  passengeri  from  the  Continent,  who 
came  to  Ireland  either  for  the  purpose  of  leading  a  life  of  stricter 
discipline  or  of  improving  themselves  in  the  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. 

The  venerable  Bede — an  Anglo  Saxon  historian,  and  of  course 
not  very  friendly  to  Celtic  Ireland — having  mentioned  a  plague 
that  raged  in  the  kingdom  of  Northumberland  in  the  year  6G4,  in- 
forms us,  that  it  also  "visited  Ireland  likewise  with  signal  violence. 
There  were  in  that  country,  at  the  time  we  speak  of  many  of  the 


IS  IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTERS, 

English  nobility,  and  middle  classes  who  at  the  time  of  Bish- 
ops  Finan  and  Colman,  had  left  their  native^  island  and  retired 
thither  to  Ireland,  either  for  the  pu/pose  of  studying  the  Word 
of  God,  or  else  to  observe  a  stricter  life.  And  some  iiidee>^ 
presently  devoted  themselves  to  the  monastic  profcssiorf 
while  others  chose  rather  to  pay  visits  to  the  chambers  of  the  diS 
tsrent  masters;  all  of  whom  the  Irish  received  most  cordially  and 
provided  with  daily  food  free  of  charge,  as  likewise  with  books  to 
read,  and  gratuitous  instruction.  Among  those  students  were 
two  of  the  English  nobility,  named  Edilhun  and  Egbert,  youths 
of  excellent  parts,  the  first  of  whom  was  the  brother  of  Edilwin, 
a  man  equally  beloved  of  God,  who  himself  also  went  to  Ireland  in 
the  following  age  for  the  purpose  of  studying  there,  and  returned 
to  his  country  well  educated,  after  which  having  been  appointed 
bishop  in  the  province  of  Lindis,  he  ruled  that  Church  most  nobly 
for  many  years. "  Again,  Bede  informs  us  farther  that  Agilbert, 
bishop  of  Paris,  was  in  650,  educated  in  Ireland.  About  the  year 
685,  Alfred,  son  of  Osway,  succeded  his  royal  brother  Egfrid  on 
the  throne  of  Northumberland.  "He  was"  says  Bede,  "a  man 
most  learned  in  the  Scriptures  " — who  when  the  throne  became 
vacant — "  was  living  a  sojourner  in  the  country  of  the  Scots,  in 
Ireland,  and  there  imbibing  heavenly  wisdom  with  all  his  heart's 
attention;  for  he  had  left  his  native  land  and  its  pleasant  fields  to 
learn  in  studious  exile  the  mysteries  of  the  .Lord."  Again,  Aid- 
helm,  Abbot  of  Malmsbury,  in  a  letter  to  a  student,  named  Eah- 
frid  who  had  spent  six  years  in  Irish  schools,  asks — "  Why  should 
Ireland,  whither  students  are  transported  in  troops,  by  fleets  be  ex- 
alted with  such  unspeakable  advantages,  as  if  here  in  the  rich  soil  of 
England,  there  could  not  be  found  any  Grecian  or  Roman  teach- 
ers to  expound  by  their  interpretations  the  dark  problems  of  the 
celestial  library  to  inquiring  youths.  For  even  though  the  above 
named  country  of  Ireland,  a  rich  and  verdant  pasture  for  the  stu- 
dious throng  of  readers  to  graze  in,  be  ornamented  with  bright 
stars  like  those  that  glitter  in  the  arch  of  heaven."  At  that  time 
Europe  was  lying  in  pagan  darkness,  and  from  the  sea-girt  shores 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  79 

of  Ireland  emanated  that  electric  flash  of  heavenly  light  that  dis- 
pelled the  moral  spiritual  gloom  from  the  minds  of  Europe's  fair 
daughters  and  enterprizing  sons.  St.  Columba  went  forth,  and 
on  the  Druid's  Idle  founded  the  Seminary  of  lona — whose  fair 
fame  will  never  die — and  by  his  indefatigable  labors  the  Picis 
bowed  submissively  to  King  Jesus.  St.  Columbanus  left  the 
shores  of  his  sacred  isle  and  in  the  true  missionary  spirit  of  an 
apostle  devoted  his  life  to  the  conversion  of  the  Suevi,  the  Boi 
and  the  Franks  of  Germany.  St.  Kilian  first  introduced  the  gos- 
pel among  the  eastern  Franks.  St.  Willibrord  converted  the  Ba- 
taVians,  the  Friedanders,  and  the  ^estphalians.  Cedd,  Diumer, 
and  Frumshere  evangelized  the  Anglo-Saxons.  Clement  and  Al- 
binus  were  the  revivers  of  learning  in  France.  The  one  presided 
over  the  university  of  Pavia;  the  other  over  that  of  Paris.  The 
most  renowned  commentator  on  the  Pauline  Epistles  was  Sedu- 
lius.  Another  very  learned  man  named  Claudius  Scotus  flour- 
ished about  the  year  815.  He  also  wrote  a  commentary  (  f  the 
Gospel  of  Matthew  and  the  Epistles  of  Paul.  In  the  beginning  of 
the  Imperial  reign  of  Charlemagne,  literature  was  buried  in  the 
ashes  of  its  once  celebrated  lustre.  "When  the  illustrious  Charles," 
says  his  French  Biographer,  "had  begun  to  reign  alone  in  the  wes- 
tern world,  and  literature  was  every  where  almost  forgotten,  it 
came  to  pass  that  two  Scots  from  Ireland — men  incomparably  lear- 
ned, both  in  human  knowledge  and  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  came 
over  with  some  British  merchants  to  the  shores  of  France." 

In  the  year  831,  the  doctrine  of  Transubstantiation  was  first 
clearly  laid  down  and  published  by  the  Roman  Church  through  the 
instrumentality  of  a  monk  named  Paschasius  Radbut.  These 
novel  views  respecting  the  communion  of  the  Lord's  Supper  were 
ably  refuted  by  a  celebrated  son  of  Erin — Johannes  Scotus  Erig- 
ena — a  man  whom  every  scholar  delights  to  honor  as  a  profound 
literary  and  philosophical  genius.  His  influence  was  felt  in  Itdy; 
for  in  1045,  the  celebrated  Berenger  publicly  maintained  the  doc- 
trines of  Scotus,  but  in  1045,  by  the  decrees  of  the  Councils  of 
Rome  and  Vercelli  he  was  condemned  to  the  flames.     Socelebr^^- 


80  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

ted  were  the  Irish  Schools  about  the  year  1070,  that  the  following 

poem  was  written  by  John,  son  of  Sulgen,  bishop  of  St.  David's 

With  ardent  love  for  learning,  Sulgen  sought 

The  school  in  which  his  fathers  had  been  taught; 

To  Ireland's  sacred  Isle,  he  bent  his  way 

Where  science  beamed  with  bright  and  glorious  ray  ■ 

But  lo  !  an  unforsoen  impediment 

His  journey  interrupted  as  he  went, 

For  sailing  toward  the  country  where  abode 

The  people  famous  in  the  Word  of  God, 

His  bark  by  adverse  winds  and  tempests  toss'd 

Was  forced  to  anchor  on  another  coast. 

And  thus  the  Albanian  shore,  the  traveller  gainoa 

And  there  for  five  successive  years  remained — 

At  length  arriving  on  the  Irish  soil 

He  soon  applies  himself  with  studious  toil; 

The  Holy  Scriptures  now  his  thoughts  engage, 

And  much  he  ponders  o'er  the  oft-read  page. 

Exploring  carefully  the  secret  mine. 

Of  precious  treasures  in  the  law  divine; 

Till  thirteen  years  of  diligence  and  pains, 

Had  made  him  afSuent  in  heavenly  gains, 

And  stored  his  ample  mind  with  rich  supplies, 

Of  costly  goods  and  sacred  merchandize. 

Then  having  gained  a  literary  name. 

In  high  repute  for  learning,  home  he  came — ■ 

His  gathered  store  and  golden  gains  to  share, 

Among  admiring  friends  and  followers  there. 

If  modern  students  were  to  study  thirteen  years  before  re- 
ceiving the  titles  of  A.  B,,  or  M.  D.,  how  many  quacks  would 
the  age  get  rid  of?  Surely  quackery  in  literature  will  one  day 
cease!  In  the  year  1083,  flourished  that  celebrated  and  learned 
Irishman,  Marianus  Scotus — who  was  equally  renowned  as  an 
author  and  a  translator.  He  published  a  valuable  commentary 
on  the  Bible — a  Chronicle  of  Universal  History — and  several  other 
works.  He  numbered  among  his  charity  pupils  one  Nicholas 
Breakspeare — son  of  an  English  pauper,  but  a  boy  of  great 
mental  strength.  This  boy  was  gratuitously  educated  by 
the  good  Scotus :  but  afterwards  allured  by  the  glitter  and  pom- 
posity of  Roman  priestly  garments;  he  forsook  the  home  of  his 
youth,  and  abandoned  the  faith  of  his  preceptor ;  united  with  the 
Church  of  Rome,  and  finally  ascended  the  papal  throne  under  the 
tognomen  of  Adrian  IV.,  and  for  one  penny  a  hearth  sold  Ireland, 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  81 

the  scene  of  his  school  boy  days,  the  land  where  he  was  freely 
educated,  to  the  English  monarch.  What  base  ingratitude ! 
About  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century  flourished  the  celebrated 
annalist,  Tighernach — who  was  well  read  in  both  the  Greek  and 
Latin  Classics.  In  the  year  1607,  the  learned  Cambden — an  An- 
glo Saxon  writer,  says,  that,  the  "  Anglo  Saxons  used  to  flock  to 
gether  into  Ireland,  as  a  market  of  learning ;  whence  it  is  that  we 
continually  find  it  said  in  our  writers  concerning  holy  men  of  old, 
"  He  was  sent  away  to  he  educated  in  Ireland"  "  And  it  would 
appear,"'  says  he  "that  it  was  from  that  country,  the  ancient  Eng- 
lish our  ancestors  received  their  first  instructions  in  forming  let- 
ters, as  it  is  plain  they  used  the  same  character  which  is  still  used 
in  Ireland." 

From  the  pages  of  history  it  appears,  that  the  educated  sons 
of  Ireland  established  those  renowned  seats  of  learning  in  lona 
in  Scotland,  in  Oxford  in  England,  in  Paris  in  France,  in  Pavia 
and  Bobbio  in  Italy,  in  Leuxeu  and  St  Gall  in  Switzerland  ;  and 
also  the  Churches  of  the  Picts,  the  Scots,  the  Anglo-Saxons,  the 
French,  the  Dutch,  the  Swiss,  the  Germans,  and  the  Icelanders , 
and  gave  an  impetus  to  literature  and  philosophy,  science  and  the- 
ology, that  has  been  highly  beneficial  to  the  world  at  large.  It 
is  amusing  to  hear  the  remarks  made  by  certain  self-conceited 
persons  about  Irish  ignorance.  But  who  are  these  critics  ?  Nine- 
tenths  of  them  have  never  read  the  history  of  their  own  country : 
Nine-tenths  of  them  have  never  had  a  respectable  history  of  their 
own  country  in  their  hands.  A  certain  garrulous  self-con- 
ceited person,  with  whom  the  writer  had  the  misfortune  to  be- 
come acquainted,  was  continually  railing  at  the  ignorant  Irish, 
as  he  was  pleased  to  designate  the  sons  of  Ireland.  An  Irish 
Romanist  overhearing  him  one  day,  called  him  a  son  of  Henry 
VIII.  But  so  ignorant  was  this  self-conceited  being  when  his 
depth  was  really  sounded  that  he  went  to  a  third  party,  and  told 
him  what  the  ignorant  Irishman  (!)  had  called  him,  and  then  very 
inquisitively  asked  who  Henry  VIII,  was  ?  Upon  being  answered 
in  the  affirmative,  he  alleged,  his  unacquaintance  with  English  his- 


82  IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTKRS. 

lory  arose  from  his  hatred  of  England.  What  a  despicable  boo- 
by !  still  he  is  a  mere  specimen  of  Ireland's  slanderers.  And  it 
is  a  remarkable  fact  that  addle-headed  people  who  left  Ireland  be- 
fore arriving  at  their  tenth  year  of  age,  and  the  children  of  Irish  pa- 
rents, are  more  opposed  to  Irish  immigrants  than  those  whose 
grand  parents  were  true  hearted  noble  American^ 

We  do  not  wish  to  be  blind  to  the  faults  of  Irishmen.  We 
are  conscious  of  these  ;  and  are  truly  sorry  for  their  misfortunes. 
But  who  are  these  unfortunates?  Aie  they  Protestants?  No  I 
they  are  of  'Anglo  Saxon  origin  too  The  East  and  South  of  Ire- 
land are  wholly  of  English  origin.  Ot  .^oetsand  scholars,  poli- 
ticians and  orators,  sailors  and  soldiers,  Ireland  has  given  a  rich 
supply.  .  Cloutarf,  Ballinabwee,  Benburb,  the  Boyne,  Aughrim, 
and  Limerick,  have  drawn  from  Irish  hearts  seas  of  blood  over 
which  her  red  flag  floated  unseen  from  shore  to  shore.  The  red 
foot  of  Irish  bravery  has  kept  time  to  War's  death  march  on  the 
burning  sands  of  India.  The  clang  of  Irishmen's  armor,  and  the 
shout  of  their  victories  have  multiplied  themselves  in  the  echoes 
of  the  Alps.  Beneath  their  own  green  flag  they  fought  at  Clon- 
tarf  and  Benburb  ;  beneath  the  tri-color  at  Cremona  and  Fonte- 
noy ;  beneath  the  fiery  cross  of  St.  George,  from  Seringapatam  to 
Waterloo  they  proved  their  faithful  allegiance  ;  and  beneath  that 
brighter  and  dearly  beloved  flag  deepening  its  red  stripes  with 
their  blood,  and  brightening  its  glorious  stars  with  their  valor  they 
fought,  for  its  triumph,  at  Quebec  and  Yorktown,  at  Niagara  and 
New  Orleans,  at  Palo  Alto  and  Buena  Vista,  at  Cherubusco  and 
Chepult«pec. 

A  man  prejudiced  against  everything  Irish,  may  stand  by 
the  tombs  of  Boyle,  of  Berkley,  of  Swift,  of  Sheridan,  of  Steele, 
and  of  Goldsmith,  and  deny  to  Ireland  all  claims  to  genius ;  he 
may  have  listened  to  Miss  O'Neill,  or  Miss  Hays,  or  witnessed 
the  living  embodiments  of  Kean  and  Macklin,  and  deny  all  honor 
to  Ireland  in  Music  and  the  Drama.  He  may  have  listened  to 
the  songs  of  the  bards,  heard  Carolan's  harp,  or  read  Anacreon  in 
sweeter  language   than  the  great  original,  and  drank  in  even  the 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  83 

"  loves  of  the  angels,"  and  deny  all  claims  of  Ireland  to  poetry 
He  may  pause  by  the  ashes  of  Burke  and  Canning,  and  deny  that 
[reland  ever  produced  a  Statesman.  He  may  listen  to  the  still, 
living  echoes  of  Curran's,  Grattan's,  Cooke's,  and  McNeill's  voices^ 
and  deny  that  Ireland  has  a  claim  to  eloquence.  He  may  stand 
by  the  nameless  and  unepitaphed  tomb  of  Brien  Boru,  or  walk 
heedlessly  over  the  ashes  of  Emmettj  Tone,  or  Fitzgerald,  and  de- 
ny to  Ireland  the  virtue  of  patriotism.  But  he  cannot — no  man 
can — stand  by  the  aged  Brien  at  Clontarf,  by  Hugh  O'Neill  at 
Ballinabwee,  by  Sarsfield  at  Limerick,  by  Wellington  at  Water- 
loo, by  Gough  and  Napier  iu  India,  by  Montgomery  at  Quebec, 
by  Stark  at  Bennington,  by  Wayne  at  Stony  Point,  by  Jackson 
at  New  Orleans,  by  Shields  at  Cerro  Gordo  and  Chepultepec : — 
he  cannot — no  man  can  follow  Con,  and  Nial,  and  Dathy  over 
Scotia,  Gaul  and  the  Continent — read  through  the  wars  of  Crom- 
well and  the  glorious  William  of  Nassau — read  through  our  own 
Revolutionary  struggle,  the  second  war,  and  the  conquest  of  Mex- 
ico— he  cannot — no  man  can  trace  through  history's  pages  the 
aclilevment'5  of  Amiens,  Ramilies,  Cremona,  and  Fontenoy,  I 
care  not  how  prejudiced,  and  say,  if  he  understands  what  he 
says,  that  the  Irish  Celt  lacked  courage,  showed  want  of  military 
genius,  or  failed  in  heroism,  whether  the  green  flag,  the  tri-color, 
the  fiery  cross,  or  the  radiant  stars  and  stripes  floated  over  him,  or 
became  his  shroud  on  fields  where  he  bravely  conquered  or  im- 
daunted  fell. 

Protestants  of  Ireland,  be  not  ashamed  of  your  country ! 
Her  literature  still  survives.  Old  Trinity,  and  the  four  Queen's 
Colleges,  are  entwining  the  chaplets  of  literature  around  the  brows 
of  their  Alumni.  The  literature  of  your  country  will  one  day 
appear  more  prominent,  and  be  more  fully  acknowledged.  When 
one  looks  at  the  list  of  distinguished  names  that  adorn  the  annals 
of  your  country  you  have  reason  to  take  hope  of  future  encour- 
agement. Who  silenced  the  once  eloquent  tongues  of  your  dis- 
tinguished,  learned,  and  illustrious  Christian  forefathers  ?  Was  it 
not  Popery  ?    Who  converted  your  once  free  and  happy  country 


84  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

into  a  land  of  serfs  ?     Was  it  not  Popery  1 — Popery  usurped  the 
light  of  granting  the  ancient  Christian  Ireland  to  Henry  II.,  of 
England,  on  condition  he  would  replenish  the  coiFers  of  the  Pon- 
'  tiff  and  convert  the   national   church  into  a  Roman  Church. — Po- 
pery created  the  first  sectarianism  in  Ireland.     Popery  raised  the 
first  rebellion  in   Ireland.      Popery  caused  the  Irish   Protestant 
Massacre  in  1641.     Popery  persecuted  at  Wexford  bridge,  Scul- 
labogue  House,  and  Enniscorthy  in  1798,  and  Popery  would,  if  it 
had  the  power,  persecute  now  as  much  as  ever.     Remember,  that 
Popery  was  an  intruder  upon  Ireland  in  the  year  1172.     Remem- 
ber, that  before  that  period,  Ireland  was  free  and  happy  and  edu- 
cated and  enlightened.     Remember  that  since  that  period.  Popery 
the  curse  of  Ireland,  has  brought  upon  its  inhabitants,  superstition, 
poverty,    ignorance,  hatred,   variance,    strife,    emulations,  sedi- 
tions, heresies.    But  since  the  glorious  Reformation,  rapid  advanc- 
es have  been  made  to  retrieve  her  ancient  literary  glory.     And 
now  in  the    highest   branches  of  human   knowledge,  and  on  the 
widest  arena  of  human  enterprise,  the  names  of  illustrious  Irish- 
men have  been  justly  celebrated,  and  highly  distinguished.     For 
divines,  philosophers,  statesmen,  orators,  legislators,  diplomatists, 
financiers,  historians,   poets,  astronomers,  physicians,   sculptors, 
musicians,  dramatists,  and  warriors,  Ireland  needs  not  be  ashamed 
of  a  comparison  with  any  nation.     For  who  has  not  heard  of  an 

Ussher — the  learned  divine — the  patriotic  friend  of  liberty — the 
patron  of  the  persecuted  Alpine  Christians  ;  or  a  Wellesley  and 
«  Wellington  ;  a  Burke  and  a  Canning;  a  Boyle  and  a  Swift j  a 
Sterne  and  a  Goldsmith  ;  a  Sheridan  and  Hastings;  a  Grattan  and  a 
Foster ;  a  Curran  and  a  Flood ;  a  Clare  and  a  Bushe ;  a  Yelverton 
and  a  Hutchinson  ;  a  Shell  and  a  Plunkett :  a  Brown  and  a  Jebb ; 
a  Loftus  and  a  Sloane ;  a  Castlereagh  and  a  Charlemont ;  a  Staun- 
ton and  a  Macartney  ;  a  Francis  and  a  Malone  ;  a  Knox  and  a 
Coote  ;  a  Pottinger  and  the  Parnelles ;  a  Gough  and  a  Brinkky : 
a  Robinson  and  an  Oxmantown  ;  a  Morgan  and  a  Hamilton ;  a 
Moore  and  a  Morrington ;  a  Gillespie  and  an  Abernethy ;  a  Haw- 
kins and  a  Lever ;  a  Hall  and  a  Wolfe  •  a  Maxwell  and  a  Lover ; 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  ^5 

a  Carolan  and  a  Maturin;  a  Faron  and  a  Murphy;  a  Cooke  and  a 

Macklin  ;  a  Montgomery  and  an  Edgar ;  a  Nelson  and  a  Bruce ;  a 

Stewart  and  a  Magee ;  a  McNeill  and  a  Faloon  ;  a  Napier  and  a 

Davidson  ?    These  are  only  a  few  of  the  distinguished  names  that 
reflect  a  halo  of  glory  from  the  shores   of  Erin,     The  founder  of 

the  Presbyterian  Church  in  this  free  land  was  the  Rev.  Francis 
McKemie — an  Irishman.  Besides  the  Rev.  Samuel  Finley,  D. 
D.,  President  of  the  College  of  New- Jersey,  was  an  Irishman,  and 
so  were  the  sainted  Tennents  of  hallowed  memory.  Protestant 
Irishmen  have  everywhere  in  this  laiid  been  the  patrons  of  learn- 
ing. The  late  lamented  Rev.  Samuel  B.  Wylie,  D.  D.,  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania  was  also  an  Irishman  and  an  ornament 
to  his  country.  Throughout  this  glorious  Republic,  learned 
Irishmen  are  occupying  places  of  trust  with  honor  to  themselves 
and  acceptability  to  those  by  whom  they  are  employed.  And 
they  will  always  continue  the  friends  of  learning  as  their  fathers 
were.  They  love  American  Liberty,  and  American  Institutions, 
and  the  noble  generous  unsophisticated  true  American  people. 
They  have  no  battle  to  wage  against  America  or  Americans. 
They  do  not  interfere  with  American  politics  They  allow  Amer- 
icans to  rule  their  own  country.  The  moment  they  plant  their 
feet  upon  American  soil,  they  feel  that  they  are  one  with  Ameri- 
ica,  and  that  They  are  Americans 


86  IRISH   PROTESTANT   ]uKTXER8. 


1 


[ProTa  the '«  New  Tork  True  American"  Deceirber  23d  1854.] 

Beminiscences  of  Dublin — Historical  and 

Descriptive* 


Its  origin — eminent  men — Cathedral  Churches — Public  Buildings — 
Dublin  Castle — the  University — general  appearance  of  the  City 
— Nelson's  Pillar — equestrian  statue  of  King    William — Public 
Squares-Phoenix  Park — closing  remarks. 

BY    R.    K.    B.    DUBLIN. 

Dublin  !  a  thousand  recollections  rise 
With  thy  dear  name,  'mid  foreign  seas  and  skies; 
Still  should  my  heart  for  thee  a  spot  contain, 
Oh !  let  thy  beauties  now  inspire  my  strain. 
*  *  *  *  * 

Dublin  !  the  cradle  of  my  youth — my  home, 

With  thee  what  joyful  retrospections  come, 

'Mongst  friends — 'mongst  foes,  and  all  life's  chance  and  change, 

Naught  shall  from  thee  this  downcast  heart  estrange. 

Sweet  home  !  how  often  hath  thy  memory  stole 

In  hallowed  greenness  o'er  thissadden'd  soul. 

Bayly. 
And  what  shall  I  say  of  Dublin,  the  home  of  the  writer's 
■eart,  of  which  he  is  by  birth  a  citizen  and  freeman  ?  That  an- 
jient  city,  the  Eblana  of  Ptolemy,  the  Greek  Geographer,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  second  century,  or  as  it  was  then  known  in  a  na- 
tive language,  Ath-Cliath-Dubhlinne.  From  the  life  of  Kevin  oi 
Glendalough,  written  in  the  eighth  century,  I  take  the  following 
translation  from  the  Latin  :  "  The  city  of  Ath-CIiath  is  situated 
in  the  northern  region  of  Leinster,  upon  a  straight  of  the  sea ; 
it  is  called  in  the  Irish  language  Dubh  linne,  which  signifies  the 
Black  "Water,  and  this  city  is  powerful  and  warlike,  always  inhab- 


IRISH    PROTBSTaUT    LETTERS.  87 

ited  by  men  most  brave  in  battles,  and  expert  in  fleets."  By  the 
ancient  Britons  or  Welsh  it  was,  and  is  still  called  Dinas  Dulinn  ; 
signifying  the  fortress  or  city  of  Dublin ;  by  the  Danes  it  was 
called  Dyflyn  or  Duflin,  as  may  be  seen  on  the  coins  of  the  Da- 
nish kings  of  Dublin,  and  in  the  Saga  of  the  Icelandic  historians, 
in  Johnstone's  Celto-Scandinavian  Antiquities ;  by  the  English, 
the  city  was  called  Duvelin,  and  lastly  Dublin,  all  of  which  name» 
were  derived  from  the  Irish  Dubh-linne,  and  Latinized  Dublin^ 
um. 

The  city  of  the  venerable  Archbishop  Ussher,  one  of  the 
most  learned  men  of  Europe  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  a 
bright  particular  star  in  the  constellation  of  the  Irish  Protestant 
Church.  Of  Sir  James  Ware,  the  renowned  Antiquary ;  of  Jon- 
athan Swift,  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's,  the  eccentric  wit  and  distin- 
guished author ;  of  Moore,  the  bard  of  Erin,  iu  the  words  of  By 
ron,  "  the  poet  of  all  circles,  and  the  idol  of  his  own ;"  of  Well- 
ington, the  hero  of  Waterloo,  who  placed  the  laurel  wreath  of 
victory  around  Britannia's  brow,  the  victorious  leader  of  the 
cool  Saxon,  the  cautious  Scot  and  the  impulsive  Celt.  I  might 
also  say  of  Mrs  Hemans,  for  though  born  in  Liverpool,  she  was 
of  Dublin  parentage,  and  in  the  latter  city  her  remains  are  de- 
posited in  a  vault  beneath  St.  Ann's  church.  Her  works  shall 
last  while  lives  affection  in  the  human  heart. 

The  ancient  Cathedral  churches  of  Dublin,  dating  long  before 
the  Norman  Conquest,  and  in  which  now  sleepeth  quietly  the  flow- 
er of  Celtic,  Danish,  Norman,  and  Saxon  chivalry,  including 
Strongbow,'and  the  veteran  hero,  Schomberg  renowned  along  the 
the  Rhine.  They  are  of  a  bold  and  daring  style  of  architecture, 
their  convenience  and  beauty,  founded  as  they  were,  in  the  heart 
of  the  ancient  city,  form  a  lasting  impression  on  the  mind — the 
massy  magnificence  of  their  arches — their  gigantic  pillars  looking 
the  repose  of  ages — the  spaciousness  of  their  cruciform  structure 
— the  long  vista  of  their  naves  and  aisles — their  lofty  concave 
roofs,  and  splendid  choirs. 

I  may  here  state  for  the  information  of  such  as  feel  an  inte- 


88  IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTKRS. 

rest  Vi  EplspCjpai  matters,  that  Dublin  is  the  only  See  in  Europe, 
with  the  exception  of  Saragossa,  in  Spain,  that  has  two  cathe- 
drals. I  have  often,  while  wandering  through  the  naves  and  aisles 
of  those  venerable  buildings  in  my  native  city,  mused  on  the  de- 
parted greatness  of  former  times  as  there  represented  in  the  icy 
marble,  and  monumental  effigies  with  which  they  abound.  The 
Anglo-Norman  nobles  of  the  houses  of  Ormonde  and  Kildare,  to 
the  former  of  whom  the  writer  i  s  related  by  immediate  maternal 
descent,  and  the  lordly  bishop  in  full  canonicals  are  there,  as  when 
in  life  they  moved  in  all  the  temporal  greatness  with  which  they 
were  surrounded  by  the  age  in  which  they  lived.  In  the  gloomy 
grandeur  of  those  ancient  piles,  may  be  seen  the  banner,  helmet, 
and  insignia,  of  many  a  chivalric  knight  now  mouldering  in  the 
dust  beneath;  and  within  the  hearing  of  whose  resting 
place,  ascends  as  in  former  years,  the  molodious  pealing  of  the 
organ,  with  the  swelling  of  the  anthem,  in  all  the  rich- 
ness, beauty,  and  cadence,  of  the  most  refined  and  cultivated 
ecclesiastical  music.  The  patriot,  the  poet,  the  warrior,  the  his- 
torian and  the  philanthropist,  all  rest  together  in  silence  beneath 
the  sombre  shades  of  venerable  antiquity.  There  are  some  with 
whom  I  Sympathize,  who  delight  in  the  romance  of  their  solitude 
and  stillness,  and  look  back  with  pleasing  emotions  to  the  achieve- 
ments of  their  ancestors  in  the  days  of  chivalry  ;  and  when  the 
pale  moon  throws  a  melancholy  shade  over  the  wild  mountain's 
brow,  love  to  dwell  on,  and  talk  of  the  tales  of  other  years;  when 
in  the  language  of  the  sublime  Ossian,  "chief  mixed  strokes  with 
chief,  and  man  with  man — steel  clanging  sounded  on  steel,  and 
helmets  were  cleft  on  high."  Some  love  to  sit  by  the  burning 
»ak,  and  spend  the  night  in  songs  of  old — of  those  who  had  been 
saighty  in  battle,  and  whose  fame  shall  never  fade.  There  are 
lome  I  know  with  whom  these  sentiments  will  find  no  favor,  but 
that  can  easily  be  accounted  for,  in  the  selfishness  of  this  unchiv- 
alric  age — it  being  the  golden  age  of  utilitarianism. 

The  beautiful  public  buildings  of  Dublin,  such  as  the  Bank 
of  Ireland,  the  Four  Courts,  the  Custom   House,  and  the  Royal 


IRISH    PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  89 

Exchange,  which  stand  as  the  enduring  memorials  of  her  Prot- 
estant Parliament,  reflecting  most  favorably  on  the  generous  spirit 
of  her  people.  Dublin,  though  shorn  of  her  beams  since  the 
Union,  still  disputes  with  Edinburgh  and  the  Bath,  as  being  the 
most  beautiful  city  in  the  empire.  From  the  report  of  a  tour 
through  Ireland,  published  in  1838  by  Sir  H.  D.  Inglis,  a  promi- 
nent member  of  the  British  Parliament,  I  make  the  following  ex- 
tract : 

"  Dublin  for  its  size,  is  a  handsomer  city  than   London ;  Sack- 
ville  street  will   compare  with  any  street  in  Europe ;  Merrion- 
Square,  and  St.  Stephen's  Green,  surpasses  in  extent  any  of  the 
Squares  in  the  British  metropolis.     There   are  points  of  view  in 
Dublin,  embracing  the  principal  streets,  the  quays,  with  their  gran- 
ite walls,  and  beautiful  bridges  spanning  the  river,  (the  city  being 
divided  exactly  in  two  by  the  river  Liffey,)  and  some  of  the  finest 
public  edifices,  more  striking,  I  think,  than  any  that  are  to  be 
found  in  London,  in  the  architectural  beauty  of  some  of  her  pub- 
lic buildings,  she  has  just  reason  for  pride.    I  need  but  name  the 
Custom  House,  and  the  Bank  of  Ireland,  with  its  magnificent  and 
yet  classically  chaste  colonnades,  in  proof  of  this  assertion." 

With  the  public  buildings  just  mentioned,  should  not  be  for- 
forgotten  Dublin  Castle,  which  once  exhibited  in  walls,  towers,  re- 
doubts, and  battlements,  fosses  anddraw- bridges,  all  the  elements 
ot  ancient  architecture,  having  been  almost  entirely  rebuilt  during 
the  latter  century,  now  retains  so  little  of  its  former  lineaments, 
that  the  site  only  can  be  said  to  identify  the  modern  palace,  with 
the  original  castellated  erection.  It  is  divided  into  two  courts, 
the  entrances  to  which  are  surmounted  by  the  figures  of  Justice 
and  Fortitude ;  in  the  upper  court  is  a  collonade,  forming  the 
entrance  to  the  apartments  of  the  Viceroy,  including  the  presence 
chamber,  and  St.  Patrick's  Hall.  Thelower  court  has  on  one  side 
the  Treasury,  and  Vice  Treasurer's  Oflice ;  on  the  other  the  Re- 
cord Tower,  and  Chapel  Royal.  The  latter  is  particularly 
worthy  of  notice,  it  is  an  elegant  structure  in  the  latter  style  of 
English  architecture.     The  interior  is   lighted  on  each  side  with 


90  IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTBRS. 

six  windows  of  beautiful  design,  enriched  with  tracery  and  em- 
bellished with  stained  glass  ;  the  east  window  which  is  of  large 
dimensions  and  beautiful  design,  is  of  stained  glass;  representing 
our  Savior  before  Pilate,  and  the  Evangelists  in  compartments, 
with  an  exquisite  group  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity.  The  wood- 
work is  of  the  finest  oak,  superbly  carved  with  Gothic  ornaments, 
as  are  also  the  panels  round  the  galleries,  pulpit,  with  the 
arms  and  mottos  of  the  several  Viceroys  from  the  time  of  Henry 
the  II,  while  the  pulpit  is  ornamented  with  the  arms  of  the  Irish 
Archbishops.  The  eastern  entrance  is  by  a  Gothic  door,  whose 
drop-stone  is  upheld  corbel-wise  by  St.  Patrick  and  Brien  Bo- 
roihme. 

The  University  of  Dublin  is  also  worthy  of  special  notice,  the 
buildings  of  which,  from  their  extent  and  magnificence,  form  one 
©f  the  principal  ornaments  of  the  city,  consisting  of  three  spa- 
cious quadrangles,  erected  chiefly  after  designs  by  Sir  William 
Chambers.  The  principal  front  occupies  the  whole  of  the  eastern 
side  of  College  Green,  is  380  feet  long,  built  of  Portland  stone, 
«nd  consists  of  a  projecting  centre,  ornamented  with  four  three- 
quarter  Corinthian  columns,  supporting  an  enriched  cornice  and 
pediment,  under  which  is  the  principal  entrance ;  and  at  each 
extremity  of  the  facade  is  a  projecting  pile  of  square  building  dec- 
orated with  duplicated  pilasters  of  the  same  order,  between  which 
?8  a  noble  Venetian  window,  enriched  with  festoons  of  flowers 
Sknd  fruit  in  high  relief,  and  above  the  cornice  which  extends 
along  the  whole  of  the  front,  arises  an  attic  surmounted  by  a 
balustrade.  The  entrance  is  by  an  octangular  vestibule,  the  ceil- 
ing of  which  is  formed  of  groined  arches;  it  leads  into  the  first 
quadrangle,  called  Parliament  Square,  ^om  its  having  been  rebuilt 
by  the  munificence  of  Parliament,  which  granted  £40,000  for 
tiiat  purpose.  Tliis  quadrangle  which  is  310  feet  in  length,  and 
212  in  breadth,  contains,  besides  apartments  for  the  fellows  and 
students,  the  chapel,  the  theatre  for  examinations  and  the  refecto- 
ry. The  chapel,  which  is  on  the  north  side,  is  ornamented  in 
*^nt  by  a  handsome  portico  of  four  Corinthian  columns,  support- 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  91 

ing  a  rich  cornice  surmounted  by  a  pediment;  the  interior  is  80 
feet  in   length,    exclusive  of  a  semi-circular  recess  of  20  feet  ra- 
dius, 40  feet  broad,  and  44  feet  in  height ;  the  front  of  the  organ 
gallery  is  richly  ornamented  with  carved  oak.    The  theatre  on 
the  south  side,  has  a  front  corresponding  exactly  with  that  of  the 
chapel,  and  is  of  the  same  dimensions;  the  walls  are  decorated 
with  pilasters  of  the  composite  order,  rising  from  a  rustic  base- 
ment ;  between  the  pillars  are  portraits  of  Queen   Elizabeth,  the 
foundress,  and  of  the  following  eminent  persons  educated   in  the 
college :  Primate  Ussher,  Archbishop  King,  Bishop  Berkley,  Dean 
Swift,  Dr.  Baldwin,  William  Molyneux,  and  John  Foster,  Speaker 
of  the  Irish  House  of  Commons.    There  is  also  a  fine  monument 
of  black  and  white  marble,  and  pophyry  executed  at   Rome  by 
Hewittson,  a  native  of  Ireland,  at  an  expense  of  £2,000,    erected 
to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Baldwin,   formerly  Provost,    who  died  in 
1750,  and  bequeathed  £80,000  to  the  University.     The  refectory 
is  a  neat  building  ornamented  with  four  Ionic  pilasters  supporting 
a  cornice  and  pediment  over  the   entrance  ;  a  spacious  ante-hall 
opens  into  the  dining  hall,  in  which  are  portraits  of  Henry  Flood, 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Downs,  Lord  Avonmore,  Hussey  Burgh,  Lord 
Kil warden,  Henry  Grattan,  the  Prince  of  Wales  (father  of  George 
III,)  Cox,   Archbishop  of  Cashel,  and   Provost   Baldwin.     Over 
the   ante-hall  there  is  an   elegant  apartment    for  the  Philosophy 
School,  furnished  with    a  valuable   collection   of  philosophical 
and  astronomical  instruments  ;  and  in  it  are  delivered  the  public 
lectures  of  the  Professors  of  natural  philosophy  and  astronomy. 
The  second  quadrangle,  called  Library -square,  is  260  feet  in  length 
and  214  in  breadth,  three  sides  of  it  contain  the  students'   apart- 
ments, and  are  the  oldest  buildings  in  the  college,  the  fourth  side 
is  formed  by  the  library,  a  very  fine  building  of  granite  the  base- 
ment story  of  which  forms  a  piazza,    extending  the  whole  length 
of  the  square,  above  which  are  two  stories  surmounted  by  an  en- 
riched entablature,  and  crowned  with  a  balustrade.    It  consists  of 
a  centre  and  two  pavilions  at  the  extremities ;  in  the  western  pa- 
villion  are  the  grand  staircase,  the  law  school  and  the  librarian's 


92  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 

apartments ;  from  the  landing  place  large  folding  doors  open  into 
the  library,  a  magnificent  gallery,  210  feet  in  length,  41   feet  in 
breath,  and  40  feet  high.  Between  the  windows   on  both  sides  are 
partitions  of  oak,  projecting  at  right  angles  from  the  side  walls, 
and  forming  recesses  in  which  the  books  are  arranged ;  the  parti- 
tions terminate  in  fluted  Corinthian  columns  of  carved   oak,  sup- 
porting a  broad  cornice,  surmounted  by  a  balustrade  of  oak,  richly 
carved,  and  forming  a  handsome  front  to  a  gallery  which  is  contin- 
ued round  the  whole  of  the  room.     From  the  gallery  rises  a  se- 
ries of  Corinthian  pilasters,  between  a  range  of  upper  windows, 
supporting  a  broad  entablature  and  cornice ;  at  the  basis  of  the 
lower  range  of  pilasters  are  pedestals  supporting  busts,  finely  ex- 
ecuted in  white  marble,  of  the  most  eminent,  ancient,  and  modern 
philosophers,  poets,  orators,  and  men  of  learning,  including  seve- 
ral distinguished  members  of  the  University.     At  the  extremity 
of  this  room  is  an  apartment  in  a  transverse  direction,  52  feet  in 
length,  fitted  up  in  a  similar  style,  and  containing  the  Fagel  libra- 
ry, over  which,  and  communicating  with  the  gallery,  is  the  apart- 
ment for  MSS.,  containing  records  of  great  value,   illustrative  of 
early  Irish  and  English  history,  works  in  the  Greek,  Arabic  and 
Persian  languages,  and  some  richly  illuminated  Bibles  and  missals. 
This  magnificent  collection  comprizes  upwards  of  a  100,000  vol- 
umes, and  is  the  largest  collection  in  Ireland.    To  the  north  of 
Library  square  is  the  third  quadrangle,   it  is  wholly  appropriated 
to  chambers  for  the  students.     A  temporary  building  in  the  cen- 
tre contains  the  great   bell   formerly  suspended  in  the  steeple  of 
the  ancient  college  chapel.     The  University  Museum^  a  handsome 
apartment,  60  feet  long,  and  40  feet  wide,  is  immediately  over  the 
vestibule  of  the   entrance  of  College  Green  ;  it  comprizes  under 
the  superintendence  of  a  curator  several  collections   of  minerals, 
of  which  there  are  9,000  specimens.     Among  other  curiosities 
shown,  there  is  the  harp  of  Brien  Boroihme,  who  fell  at  the  battle 
of  Clontarf,  1014,  the  Marathon  of  ancient  Ireland.     The  Print- 
ing office,  founded  by  Dr.  Stearn,  Bishop  of  Clogher,  is  a  hand- 
some  structure,  with  an  elegant  portico  of  the  Doric  order,  and  is 


IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  93 

situated  on  the  east  of  Library-squAre.  To  the  south  of  the  library 
is  a  fine  garden  for  the  fellows,  and  to  the  east  of  the  college 
buildings  is  the  CA^OTtcaZ  Laboratory  and  School  of  Anatomy  •,  this 
range  of  buildings,  which  is  115  feet  in  length  and  50  feet  in 
breadth,  contains  chemical  laboratory  and  lecture  rooms,  with 
apartments  for  the  Professor;  a  dissecting  room,  extending  the 
whole  length  of  the  building,  and  an  anatomical  lecture  room,  30 
feet  square,  an  anatomical  museum,  30  feet  long,  and  28  feet 
wide.  The  Provost's  Souse  is  on  the  west  front  of  the  Universi- 
ty, and  is  screened  from  Grafton-street  by  a  high  wall  with  a  mas- 
sive  gateway  in  the  centre,  The  College  Botanic  Gardens,  con- 
taining about  6  acres,  have  an  extensive  collection  of  plants,  well 
arranged  and  kept  in  excellent  order.  The  College  Observatory  is 
situated  about  4  miles  from  the  city,  on  Dunsink  Hill ;  it  consists 
of  a  centre,  with  two  receding  wings,  the  former  surmounted  by 
a  dome  which  covers  the  equatorial  room,  and  is  moveable,  hav- 
ing' an  aperture  of  2  1-2  feet  wide,  which  can  be  directed  to  any 
part  of  the  horizon ;  around  the  dome  is  a  platform,  which  com- 
mands an  extensive  and  varied  prospect.  The  University  returns 
two  members  to  the  Imperial  Parliament.  I  have  given  rather  a 
full  description  of  this  eminent  seat  of  learning,  as  I  have  felt  a 
particular  interest  in  doing  so,  not  only  on  its  oWn  account,  but 
from  the  fact  that  the  writer's  eldist  brother,  after  having  success- 
fully graduated,  died  within  its  walls. 

Sir  H.  D.  Inglis  after  speaking  of  the  various  public  build- 
ings as  being  celebrated  for  their  architectural  beauty,  has  the  fol- 
lowing with  regard  to  the  University  : 

"  This  great  seminary  of  .learning,  the  worthy  rival  of  the  Eng- 
lish Universities,  and  in  usefulness  and  liberality  far  surpassing 
them,  is  an  object  of  just  pride  to  the  Irish  Nation.  There  are 
one  or  two  important  differences  between  the  Dublin  and  English 
Universities,  which  must  not  be  passed  over  in  silence.  The  most 
important  of  these  is,  that  the  Dublin  College  receives  within  its 
walls  dissenters  of  every  denomination,  and  refuses  to  them  no 
collegiate  honors  or  degrees,  except  such  as  are   by  statute  con- 


04  IRISH  PROTESTANT  LETTKR8. 

uected  with  the  ecclesiastical  discipline  of  the  University.  This 
liberality  has  been  attended  with  the  best  effects  ;  the  friendships 
formed  at  College  have  in  countless  instances  softened  the  asperi- 
ties of  the  mixed  political  and  religious  controversies  by  which 
Ireland  is  agitated ;  and  has  preserved  a  link  of  social  connection 
when  all  other  bonds  were  broken.  Another  essential  difference 
is,  that  the  study  of  the  modern  languages  form  a  part  of  the  ed- 
ucation in  Trinity  College.  Prizes  have  been  established  for  pro- 
ficiency in  the  French,  German,  and  Italian  languages." 

In  addition  to  the  splendid  line  of  communication  afforded  by 
the  quays  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  there  are  several  noble  ave- 
nues of  fine  streets ;  particularly  Sackville-street,  which  is  con- 
spicuous for  its  great  width,  averaging  150  feet,  the  magnificence 
and  beauty  of  the  public  buildings,  which  embellish  it,  and  the 
lofty  monument  to  Admiral  Lord  Nelson,  which  stands  in  its  cen- 
tre. It  consists  of  a  fluted  Doric  column  on  a  massive  pedestal, 
inscribed  on  each  side  with  the  name  and  date  of  his  lordship's 
principal  victories ;  and  over  that  which  terminated  his  career  is  a 
sarcophagus ;  the  whole  is  surmounted  by  a  collossal  statue  of 
the  Admiral,  its  height  is  about  125  feet,  and  was  completed  at 
an  expense  of  £7,000.  On  the  southern  side  of  the  city  the  ave- 
nue from  Kingstown  is  equally  imposing.  Both  meet  in  College 
Green,  a  spacious  area  in  front  of  the  University,  surrounded  with 
noble  buildings,  and  having  in  its  centre  an  equestrian  stature  ol 
the  illustrious  Prince  of  Orange,  King  William  III,  of  cast  metal, 
on  a  pedestal  of  marble. 

Of  the  public  squares,  St.  Stephen's  Green,  is  the  most  spac- 
ious, being  over  a  mile  in  circuit.  There  are  many  others  besides 
such  as  Merrion  Square,  Mountjoy  Square,  Rutland  Square,  the 
areas  of  the  several  squares  are  beautifully  laid  out  in  gravel  walks 
and  planted  with  flowering  shrubs  and  evergreens.  There  is  be- 
side all  these  the  noble  Phoenix  Park  of*  over  2,000  acres  free  to 
the  public,  I  shall  here  give  another  extract  from  Sir  H.  D.  Inglis, 
with  regard  to  it : 

"  The  inhabitants  of  Dublin  are  justly  proud  of  their  Phoenix 


IRISH   PROTESTANT   LETTERS.  95 

Park.  Neither  in  extent,  nor  in  natural  beauty,  will  any  of  the 
London  parks  bear  the  slightest  comparison  with  it.  It  was  here 
that  for  the  first  time  I  saw  those  magnificent  thorn  trees,  which 
I  afterwards  found  so  constant  an  adorner  of  every  gentleman's 
park,  and  which  even  by  the  highways  greatly  outvie  the  thorns 
of  our  English  lanes.  The  Phoenix  Park  is  of  enormous  extent- 
said,  and  I  believe,  truly,  to  contain  nearly  3,000  English  acres. 
Like  Greenwich  Park,  it  has  its  mounts,  and  its  fine  single  trees, 
and  its  shady  avenues ;  but  these  are  more  like  avenues  of  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne ;  and  besides  all  this,  it  has  its  valleys  and  rav- 
ines, and  extensive  groves,  with  herds  of  deer,  its  miniature  lakes 
with  swan,  and  also  splendid  Zoological  Gardens.  In  fact,  the 
Phoenix  Park,  both  in  extent  and  in  diversity  of  surface,  is  supe- 
rior to  any  public  Park,  promenade,  or  prado  of  any  European 
city  that  I  know." 

The  same  writer  in  his  closing  remarks  on  the  city,  has  the 
following : — 

"  No  well  recommended  stranger  in  Dublin  can  leave  it 
without  many  pleasant  recollections ;  for  it  must  be  associated 
with  much  of  hospitality  and  kindness,  and  with  much  of  that  re- 
finement that  lends  to  society  so  great  a  charm.  There  is  in  Dub- 
lin all  the  material  for  the  enjoyment  of  society,  excellent  houses, 
handsome  furniture,  and  appointments,  a  sufflciency  of  domestics, 
good  taste,  and  a  will  to  make  all  these  subservient  to  the  pleasures 
of  intercourse,  and  the  virtue  of  hospitality." 


• 
I 


96  IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS. 


Lisburn,  and  its  Surrounding  Scenery* 


LisBURN  is  situate  in  the  barony  of  Massereen,  which  signifies 
"  the  beautiful  portion."  It  is  in  a  section  of  the  country  em- 
phatically distinguished  for  its  pre-eminence  of  beauty,  improve- 
ment and  prosperity. — In  a  district  whose  wealth,  commerce,  ge- 
ographical extent,  and  magnificent  scenery,  elevate  it  to  a  pitch 
of  splendor  in  the  history  of  Ulster,  with  which  no  other  district 
of  that  province  can  enter  into  competition.  It  is  the  second 
town  in  a  county  highly  distinguished  by  art  and  nature,  and  is 
justly  honored  in  the  pages  of  history,  for  its  enjoyment  of  all 
that  intelligence  and  social  comfort,  to  which  a  prosperous  indus- 
try in  the  hand  of  Christian  benevolence,  never  fails  to  introduce 
mankind.  When  we  look  for  beauties  in  the  Wicklow  scenery, 
or  the  grandeur  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  we  teel  that  there 
is  something  wanted  to  complete  the  picture,  There  is  no  life — 
there  is  no  relieve.  They  are  as  it  were  beautiful  or  grand,  but 
lone  and  deserted.  The  generality  of  the  people  justly  prefer 
the  enlivening  scenery  which  that  part  of  the  country  presents. 
The  various  beauties  of  plantation  and  bleach-green,  of  lake  and 
waterfall,  of  plain  and  mountain,  of  grove  and  woodland ;— where 
sloping  hills,  magnificent  vistas,  verdant  vales,  fertile  fields,  high 
cultivated  grounds,  and  inviting  villas  shine,  indicate  to  the  trav- 
eler that  he  is  in  the  Eden  of  Erin !  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
bring  any  country  to  a  state  of  higher  perfection,  or  find  a  happier 
display  of  scenery  than  that  surrounding  Lisburn.  In  the  direc- 
tion of  Belfast,  it  is  one  continued  chain  of  rich  plantation  beauty. 
A  minute  description  of  all  the  works  of  art  and  nature  which 


IRISH    PROTESTANT    LETTERS.  97 

combine  to  produce  this  perfection  would  be  incompatible  with 
the  limits  of  this  sketch ;  but  when  the  reader  presents  to  his 
imagination  a  magnificent  landscape  bounded  in  front  by  the  Bel- 
fast mountains,  watered  by  the  river  Lagan,  besprinkled  with 
beautiful  villas ;  bleach  greens  upon  the  mountain  side,  glistening 
in  the  dancing  rays  of  Phoebus ;  cottages  white  as  snow,  with 
cropped  hedges,  inclosing  gardens  and  orchards  that  bend  under 
the  weight  of  their  productions ;  vallies  teeming  with  the  gifts  of 
Ceres  ;  those  venerable  monuments  of  antiquity  the  "  round  tow- 
ers," with  numerous  spires  and  steeples  here  and  there  suddenly 
starting  up — and  all  in  full  view  of  the  traveler,  over  charming 
roads,  which  pass  through  demesnes  and  villas  of  incomparable 
beauty. 

So  much  for  the  free  circulation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  as  a 
natural  result  the  industry  of  Protestant  Ulster,  the  Goshen,  of 
Ireland 


^S  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRY. 


ORIGINAL  AND  SELECTED  POETRY. 


THE  BRITISH  ISIiES. 

The  Isles,  the  Isles,  the  British  Isles  f 
Our  own,  our  fatherland, 

Where  e'er  we  go  we  think  of  them 
On  many  a  foreign  strand. 

The  homes  of  early  years  are  there. 
The  joys  of  days  gone  by, 

Which  memory  oft  recalls  to  mind 
Beneath  a  foreign  sky. 

The  happy  hours  of  childhood  fled. — 
The  scenes  of  early  years 

Have  passed  along  the  stream  of  time 
Down  through  the  vale  of  tears. 

Old  England's  tranquil  happy  shores, 
Where  live  the  brave  and  free;— 

Her  sons  are  found  in  every  land, 
Her  fleets  on  every  sea. 

The  bonnie  hills  of  Scotland  dear, 
Her  wild  romantic  glens, — 

The  land  of  Bruce  and  Bannockbnm, 
Which  freedom  still  defends. 

The  fertile  plains  of  Erin's  Isle,— 
That  ancient  land  of  song. 

Whose  noble  deeds  on  high  appear 
Against  oppression's  wrong. 

The  ancient  deeds  of  great  renown, 
Her  sons  have  nobly  wrought, 

Are  seen  on  many  a  battle-field, 
Where  hero-like  they  fought. 

The  shamrock,  and  the  thistle-rose, 

So  gracefully  entwined, 
May  they  in  union  ever  prove 

A  blessing  to  mankind. 


ORIGINAL   AND    SELECTED   FOETRT.  99 

God  bless  the  Qaeen  of  Britain's  Isles, 

And  bless  the  Britons  too, 
May  peace  within  their  borders  dwell, 

Where  waves  the  Orange-Blue  !  Bi  R.  B. 


THEIiAlTD  IN   WHICH  MY   FATHERS  lilVED. 

TXH  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived. 

In  days  of  other  years, 
How  sweet  the  name  is  always  heard 

And  pleasing  it  appears. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived, 

And  also  of  their  birth, 
In  which  were  spent  their  happy  days, 

Of  young  and  joyous  mirth. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived, 

In  boyhood  and  in  youth, 
Its  memory  ne'er  shall  be  effaced, — 

Engraven  as  on  truth* 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived, 

In  manhood's  riper  years, 
'Mid  varying  scenes  of  active  life. 

That  memory  still  endears. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived, 

And  where  they  also  died, 
Shall  in  my  heart  forever  dwell, 

And  with  my  soul  abide. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived,  ' 

In  days  ot  "auld  lang  syne" 
To  guard  fair  Berry's  ancient  walls, 

In  the  glorious  olden  time. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived, 

By  Antrim's  mountain  hills, 
Near  Lisnagarvey's  ancient  town, 

Which  peace  and  order  fills. 

The  Land  in  which  my  Fathers  lived 

Forevar  fare  thee  well ! 
Shall  I  no  more  return  to  thee 

Or  thou  0  Magheragalll  '*  R.  R.  B. 


*  In  English;  "the  Plain  of  the  West  '  The  name  of  a  Parish  situated  on  a  section 
of  rising  ground  to  thfc  south  west,  of  the  Belfast  range  of  mountains,  where  it  forms  thaw 
termination.  '  »v. -«.•«»■ 


ORIGINAL   AND    SELECTED   FOETRT. 

THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN. 

(County  of  Antrim,  Ireland.) 

How  far  expended  is  the  view 

Which  meets  the  eye  from  thee ; 
Thy  every  heig-ht  shows  something  new,  [ 

That  still  can  pleasant  be.  ( 

Thy  beauteous  landscape  still  presents  j 

A  charming  view  before,  ' 

And  brings  to  mind  gone-by  events, 
Kg  time  shall  e'er  restore. 

Before  thee  is  the  ancient  town 

Of  Lisnegarvey*  seen, 
Where  famous  deeds  of  high  renown, 

In  other  days  have  been. 

Far  in  the  distant  Mournef  appears, 

With  her  great  mountain  chain, 
As  in  the  days  of  other  years. 

When  forests  filled  the  plain. 

From  Belfast  up  to  Lough  Neagh's  shore, 

By  Lagan's  peaceful  wave, 
Where  happy  homes  still  charm  thee  more, 

And  always  pleasure  gave. 

The  placid  waters  of  Lough  NeaghJ 

Are  seen  far  to  the  west, 
And  seem  as  if  they  thus  would  say : 

"  There  is  a  land  of  rest." 

Far  in  the  distance  to  the  north, 

Are  Antrim's  mountain  hills. 
Whose  lofty  heights  do  there  show  forth 

A  scene  which  beauty  fills. 

The  Scotia  mountains,  o'er  the  sea, 

In  bold  relief  appear. 
To  show  the  land  where  man  is  free' 

And  truth  has  nought  to  fear  R.  R.  B. 


•  TiiBpp6,  11,  17,  06. 

fSNeve  Donard,  or  "  the  mountain  of  Donard  "  is  the  highest  of  the  Monme  mountains; 
jl  ^  caanected  with  some  of  the  earliest  events  in  Irish  history;  commencing:  vith  the 
Mtftcmnnt  of  the  first  Scythian  colony  in  the  I5th  century  B.  C.  up  to  the  5th  century  A. 
BL  it  was  called  after  a  leader  of  that  people  named  Partholan  ;  after  that,  it  received 
jtopMsV'nt  name  from  a  mlssiobary  who  built  an  oratory  there. 

{ liO«Kh  Neagh,  situate  ia  the  Province  of  Ulster,  is  the  largest  lake  in  the  United 
BBgdon  *  and  is  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  its  surrounding  scenery,  from  its  placid 
■  arises  the  beautiful  islet,  known  as  Barn's  Island,  (it  is  kept  in  excellent  order  by 
iccupant,  and  is  well  worthy  the  attention  of  the  tourist) — in  the  centre  of  it  re- 
»  entire  one  of  those  old  Druidic  round  towers,  for  which  Ireland  has  been  so  famous 
Mient  times.  Their  origin  is  involved  in  some  obscurity,  for  after  tracing  back  more 
btvo  thousand  years,  they  disappear  in  the  dim  twilight  of  remote  Scythian  anti- 

r*  fa  one  of  his  Melodies  thus  alludes  to  the  subject : 

On  Lough  Neagh's  banks  as  the  fisherman  strays 

When  the  calm  clear  eve's  declining 
He  sees  the  Bound  Towers  of  other  days. 

In  the  waves  beneath  him  shining. 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRY.  101 

ACROSTIC  OX  "A  PRESBYTERIAN.'* 

[From  the  PreUttant   Watchman  Feb.  9th  1849.] 

A  beam:  of  heavenly  hope  doth  cheer 

P  oor  fallen  man  below — 

R  elievea  him  still  whene'er  oppressed — 

E  ncirclesfrom  all  woe: 

S  hall  be  his  guide  while  life  endures, 

£  e  happiness  in  death; 

Y  ea  then  with  lustre  it  will  shine, 

T  hroughout  his  latest  breath. 

E  ncouragement  from  Christ  our  Uead, 

Bemaineth  for  us  still; 

I  f  we  but  to  his  word  would  keep, 

A  nd  act  upon  his  will, — 

No  more  from  Him  we'd  go  astray.  ^  R.  R.  B. 


ACROSTIC  ON  "THE  SOIiEMUr  LEAGUE  AND  COVENANT.'* 

T  HE  noble  cloud  of  witnesses  that  lived  in  other  years, 

H  ave  left  behind  them  honored  names,  which  mem'ry  still  reveres; — 

E  ncouragedby  their  zealous  deeds,  and  their  undying  fame  , 

S  till  may  we  follow  in  their  path,  whose  principles  we  claim; 

0  'er  many  strong  and  powerful  foes,  as  victors  they  returned  — 

L  ike  Christian  heroes  still  their  souls  with  pious  ardor  burned. 

E  ach  heart  was  fixed  while  there  they  stood,  a  noble  fearlet^s  band, — 

M  ighty  for  the  cause  of  Truth  in  Scotia's  favored  land, — 

iS"  e'er  giving  up  the  joyful  hope  of  that  immortal  life. — 

L  eaning  still  on  Christ  their  guide,  'midst  scenes  of  trouble  rife — ■ 
E  nduring  all  things  for  the  Truth,  so  nobly  here  they  stood 
A  rrayed  against  all  evil  powers,  resisting  unto  blood, 
G  aining  life  and  joy  and  peace  through  the  merits  of  His  cross, 
U  nto  him  they  gave  all  praise,  in  the  mountain,  glen,  and  moss 
E  ndued  with  living  faith  in  Christ,  His  Covenant  and  Crown, 

A  bright  and  sure  reward  was  theirs,  though  all  the  world  should  frown, 
N  o  earthly  power  could  e'er  prevail  against  the  chosen  few; 
Death  tried  his  strength  in  vain  upon  the  faithful  and  the  true. 

Convened  by  Truth  the  martyrsfall,  'mids*  Sooti^'s  mountain  ♦"og, 

0  n  the  Pentlaad  Hills,  at  Ayrs-moss,  in  BothweU  and  Druaul-^, 

V  aliant  in  the  riithteous cause,  through  Christ  thpir  Cov'nant  Heaj 

E  vincing  still  their  faith  in  Him.  who  for  his  peoDle  bled; 

N  ew  strength  and  courage  from  above  thev  ever  did  receive, 

A  s  onward  here  in  faith  they  went,  their  triumphs  to  achieve. 

N  ear  unto  His  people  still,  is  the  power  of  Godon  high, 

T  o  comfort  all  who  irusJiuHim.  and  brinjr  tiiem  to  the  sky.     R.  R.  B. 


102  ORIGINAL   AND   SKLKCTED   POKTRT, 

THE    VISION. 

A  Poemonthe  slaughter  of  Mr. Richard  Cameron,  and  others  at  Ayrs-noss,  on 
the  22nd  qfJuly,  1680.     Written  by  an  Ayrshire  shepherd  lad. 

In  a  dream  of  the  night  I  was  wafted  away, 
To  the  muirlands  of  mist,  where  the  martyrs  lay 
TV^here  Cameron's  sword  and  his  Bible  are  seen, 
Engraved  on  the  stone  where  the  heather  grows  green. 

'Twas  a  dream  of  those  ages  of  darkness  and  blood. 
When  the  minister's  home  was  the  mountain  and  wood; 
When  in  Wellwood's  dark  valley  the  standard  of  Zion, 
All  bloody  and  torn,  'mong  the  heather  was  lying. 

'Twas  morning;  and  summer's  young  sun  from  the  east, 

Lay  in  loving  repose  on  the  green  mountain's  breast; 

On  Wardlaw  and  Caimtable  the  clear  shining  dew. 

Glisten'd  sheen  '  mong  the  heath-bells,  and  mountain  flowers  blu» 

And  far  up  in  heaven,  near  the  white  sunny  cloud, 
The  song  of  the  lark  was  melodious  and  loud, 
And  in  Glenmuir's  wild  solitudes,  lengthen'd  and  deep. 
Were  the  whistling  of  plovers  and  bleating  of  sheep. 

And  Wellwood's  sweet  valley  breath'd  music  and  gladness, 
The  fresh  meadow  blooms  hung  in  beauty  and  redness; 
Its  daughters  were  happy  to  hail  the  returning, 
And  drink  the  delights  of  July's  sweet  morning. 

But,  oh !  there  were  hearts  cherish'd  far  other  feelings, 
Illumed  by  the  light  of  prophetic  revealings, 
Who  drank  from  the  scen'ry  of  beauty  but  sorrow. 
For  they  knew  that  their  blood  would  bedew  it  to  morrow. 

'Twas  the  few  faithful  ones  who  with  Cameron  were  lying, 
Conceal'd  'mong  the  mist,  where  the  heath-fowl  was  crying, 
For  the  horsemen  of  Earlshall  around  them  were  hovering, 
And  their  bridle  reins  rung  through  the  thin  misty  covering. 

Their  faces  grew  pale,  and  their  swords  were  unsheath'd. 
But  the  vengeance  that  darken'd  their  brow  was  unbreath'd; 
With  eyes  tum'd  to  heaven,  in  calm  resignation. 
They  sung  their  last  song  to  the  God  of  salvation. 

The  hills  with  the  deep  mournful  music  were  ringing. 
The  curlew  and  plover  in  concert  were  singing; 
But  the  melody  died  'mid  derision  and  laughter, 
As  the  host  of  ungodly  rush'd  on  to  the  slaughter. 

Though  in  mist,  and  in  darkness,  and  fire  they  were  shrouded^ 
Yet  the  50uls  of  the  righteous  were  calm  and  unclouded, 
Their  dark  eyes  flashed  lightening,  as  firm  and  unbending, 
They  stood  like  the  rock  which  the  thunder  is  rending. 


ORIGINAL   AND    SELECTED    POETRY.  103 

The  muskets  were  flashing,  the  blue  swords  were  gleaming, 
The  helmets  were  cleft,  and  the  red  blood  was  streaming. 
The  heavens  grew  dark,  and  the  thunder  was  rolling. 
When  in  Wellwood's  dark  muirlands  the  mighty  were  falling. 

When  the  righteous  had  fallen,  and  the  combat  was  ended, 
A  chariot  of  Sre  through  the  dark  «loud  descended; 
Its  drivers  were  angels,  on  horses  of  whiteness, 
And  its  burning  wheels  turned  on  axles  of  brightness. 

A  seraph  unfolded  its  doors  bright  and  shining, 
All  dazzling  like  gold  of  the  seventh  refining. 
And  the  souls  that  came  forth  out  of  great  tribulation, 
Have  mounted  the  chariot  and  steeds  of  salvation. 

On  the  arch  of  the  rainbow  the  chariot  is  gliding, 
Through  the  path  of  the  thunder  the  horsemen  are  riding, 
Glide  swiftly,  bright  spirits !  the  prize  is  before  you, 
A  crown  never  fading,  a  kingdom  of  glory ! 


WORDS  OF  AN  OLD  IRISH  AIR. 

Count  not  the  hours  while  their  silent  wings, 

Still  waft  them  in  fairy  flight. 
For  feeling  warm  from  the  purest  springs 

Shall  hallow  this  scene  to  night- 

And  while  the  magic  of  joy  is  here, 

And  the  colors  of  life  are  gay. 
Let  us  think  upon  those  who  have  loved  us  dear, 

The  friends  who  are  far  away. 

Few  are  the  hearts  that  have  proved  the  truth 

Of  their  early  affection's  vow, 
Then  let  those  few,  the  beloved  of  youth, 

Be  dear  in  their  absence  now. 

Oh !  vivid  long  in  the  faithful  breast. 

Shall  the  gleam  of  remembrance  play, 
Like  the  lingering  light  in  the  fading  hear 

When  the  sun  beam  has  passed  away. 

Soft  be  the  dream  of  their  pleasant  hours, 

Calm  be  the  seas  they  roam; 
May  the  path  they  travel  be  strewed  with  flowers 

Till  it  brings  them  in  safety  home. 

And  if  we  whose  hearts  are  o'erflowing  thus 
Ourselves  should  be  doomed  to  stray, 

May  some  kind  orison  rise  for  us 
When  we  shall  bo  far  away. 


104  ORiaiNAL    AND    SKLKCTED    POKTRT. 

THE  EXIL.E3. 

Alas!  the  living  glories  of  the  Earth, 
That  poetry  of  God  which  gave  them  birth, 
The  mountains,  lakes,  the  valleys  and  the  streams, 
Those  eyes  of  landscape  loveliness,  whose  beams 
Reflect  Joy's  halo  over  all—  whose  light 
Dispels  the  mists  of  others'  Sorrow's  Night, 
No  more  to  me  bring  peace.    In  vain  I  gaze 
Upon  the  leaf  and  flower;  they  cannot  raise 
The  shadow  of  a  shade's  tranquillity 
Within  a  breast  that  knows  no  sympathy. 

The  gay  and  glorious  univeise  of  things, 
An  antepast  of  all  that  Heaven  brings. 
Yon  circle  now  which  spreads  before  my  view, 
That  realizes  Fancy's  brightest  hue; 
The  book  which  Deity  himself  did  choose. 
When  Nature  wrote  as  his  appointed  Muse,— 
All — are  to  my  dark  mind's  imaginings 
A  dream  of  mutable  and  treacherous  things. 

Oh !  tljere  is  music  'n  the  murmuring  breeze— 
A  sweetness  in  the  song  of  rustling  trees. 
But  sad  to  me  the  melody  serene. 
For  thoughts  of  happier  days —  of  what  I've  been — 
Bring  that  dark  heartlessness  which  did  beseem 
The  Hebrews  when  they  wept  by  Babel's  stream. 
And  as  in  freedom  roU'd  the  mocking  billow. 
They  hung  their  unstrung  harps  upon  the  willow. 

What  recks  it  to  the  Exile  wandering  here, 
From  friends  afar  and  all  that  life  holds  dear, — 
That  he  beholds  those  scenes  on  every  side 
Where  laughing  seasons  lavish  all  their  pride  1 

The  darkest  spot  on  Being's  bleakful  chart 

Is  the  lone  Exile's  heavy  bursting  heart. 

As  mourns  he  all  the  joys  God  ever  gave, 

Lie  wreck'd  beneath  Misfortune's  treacheroui  wave  I 

Like  Noah's  bird  sent  from  the  sheltering  ark, 

The  world  he  ranges,  desolate  and  dark; 

No  kindred  soul  to  calm  his  burning  breast, 

Or  spot  whereon  his  wearied  foot  can  rest ! 

Launch'd  on  the  sea  of  life  without  an  oar, 

In  vain  he  seeks  some  hospitable  shore  ! 

Tho'  to  the  stranger's  eye  his  smile  beseems 

As  if  he  knew  and  felt  kind  Fortune's  beams. 

Ah !  could  his  sad  sear'd  soul  be  ken'd  within, 

That  very  smile  would  be  despair's  own  grin ! 

If  scorn' d  the  'Man  of  Sorrows'  was — unknown, 

And  when  he  came,  received  not  by  his  own. 

If  caves  the  foxes  had,  the  birds  their  nest. 

Whilst  He  knew  not  whereon  his  head  to  rest. 


ORIGINAL  AND   SELECTED    POETRY.  f 

From  the  cold  world,  oh !  can  the  Exile  dare 
Expect  a  foreign  soil  with  him  would  share 
A  soothing  balm,  to  mitigate  that  strife 
Which  gnaws  his  heart  away  in  Spring  of  lifel 

Ah !  well  can  I  conceive  the  galling  sting, 
Which  thoughts  of  better  days  to  exiles  bring. 
Home !  sad  remembrance,  yet  forever  dear, 
'Still  breath'd  with  sighs — still  usher'd  with  a  tear. 
If  e'er  I  thee  or  thine  forget — be  then 
My  heart's  cold  blood  the  ink  that  fills  my  pen  1 
If  e'er  on  foreign  soil  I  sing  a  song, 
And  thee  remember  not,  my  tongue  be  dumb; 
Whene'er  my  soul  shall  not  for  thee  expand, 
My  Lyre  be  broken — wither' d  be  my  hand. 

Friends  of  my  Home !  when  'mong  the  festive  crowd— 

'Mid  Music's  syrens — ^when  the  laugh  is  loud; 

When  on  some  favorite's  natal  day  the  Ball 

Is  kept,  and  Beauty  walks  thy  ancient  hall — 

When  pleasure  reigns,  and  mirth's  on  every  tongue-r- 

Oh !  think  on  him,  thy  exiled  child  of  Song  ! 

Him,  o'er  whose  Harp,  in  wither'dness  of  heart, 

Oft  waken  feelings  which  lost  joys  impart: 

Who  'mid  the  stranger's  sneers,  thy  name  still  breatimH— 

That  name  pronounc'd,  the  sword  of  sorrow  sheathes! — 

Drys  up  the  tear,  and  breaks  the  bursting  sigh, 

Which  started  at  the  scowl  and  cold  reply ! 

When  on  some  happy  Christmas  holy-day, 

The  banquet  is  enjoy'd  and  all  is  gay; 

When  ev'ry  heart  is  filled  with  joy  and  gladness, 

And  Bacchus  gives  a  bowl  that  drowns  your  sadnesi; 

When  Fancy  o'er  each  mind  her  spells  has  flung, 

And  feeling  pours  its  soul  from  every  tongue — 

Oh!  you  by  fortune  favored,  rich  in  health, 

And  wanting  nought  possessed  by  worldly  wealth, 

By  friendship  honor'd  and  by  love  carest — 

Forget  not  him  by  Sympathy  unblest! 

But 'mid  the  blaze  of  Beauty's  brilliant  throng, 

In  sportive  dance — the  jest — the  jovial  song 

Remember  him  whose  life-path  teems  with  woe, 

And  sing  the  songs  which  Misery's  minstrels  know! 

When  Music's  witchery  each  soul  awakes, 
And  Memory  of  the  past  a  survey  takes — 
Brings  back  the  vision  of  those  happy  years, 
Ere  blasted  bliss  to  solitude  and  tears 
Consign'd  those  hearts,  who  on  Life's  sunny  stream 
Believ'd  the  gilding  rays  would  always  beam: 
And  when  you  tell  the  tale  *  *  *  what  did  retard 
Those  Joys — Remember  then  the  friendless  Bard' 

BATKC 


106  ORIGINAL   AND   SELECTED    POETRT. 

THE  IRISHMAN. 

Ths  savage  loves  hie  native  shore, 

The'  rude  the  soil  and  chill  the  air, 
Well  then  may  Erin's  sons  adore, 

The  Isle  which  nature  form'd  so  fair; 
What  flood  reflects  a  shore  so  sweet, 

As  Shannon  great,  or  pastrol  Bann, 
^^  And  who  a  friend  or  foe  can  meet, 

So  generous  as  an  Irishman. 

t 

His  hand  is  rash,  his  heart  is  warm, 

But  principle  is  still  his  guide; 
None  more  repents  a  deed  of  harm, 

And  none   forgives  with  nobler  pride; 
He  may  be  dup'd  but  won't  be  dar'd, 

More  fit  to  practice  than  to  plan. 
He  ably  earns  his  poor  reward, 

And  spends  it  like  an  Irishman. 

If  strange  and  poor  for  you  he'll  pay. 

And  guide  you  where  you  safe  may  be, 
Are  you  his  guest  while  e'er  you  stay, 

His  cottage  holds  a  jubilee, 
His  inmost  soul  he  will  unlock, 

And  if  he  may  your  merits  scan. 
Your  confidence  he  scorns  to  mock, 

For  faithful  is  an  Irishman, 

By  honor  bound  in  woe  or  weal. 

Whatever  she  bids  he  dares  to  do: 
Tempt  him  with  bribes,  he  will  not  fail. 

Try  him  in  fire,  you'll  find  him  true; 
He  seeks  not  safety,  let  his  post 

Be  where  in  ought,  in  danger's  van; 
And  if  the  field  of  fame  is  lost, 

'Twill  not  be  by  an  Irishman. 

:  Erin,  lov'd  land,  from  age  to  age. 

Be  thou  more  great,  more  famed,  more  free; 
May  pea«e  be  thine,  or  should'st  thou  wage 

Defensive  war,  cheap  victory; 
May  plenty  bloom  in  ev'ry  field. 

Which  healthful  breezes  softly  fan, 
And  pleasure's  smiles  serenely  gild 
The  breast  of  every  Irishman. 

JAMES  ORR. 


ORIGINAL  AND    SELECTED    POETRT.  107 

THE  BRITISH  IN  PORTUGAIi. 

BY  SIB  WALTER  SCOTT. 

A  VARIOUS  host  they  came — whose  ranks  display 
Each  mode  in  which  the  warrior  meets  the  fight; 
The  deep  battalion  locks  its  firm  array, 
And  meditates  his  aim  the  marksman  light; 
Far  glance  the  lines  of  sabres  flashing  bright, 
Where  mounted  squadrons  shake  the  echoing  mead- 
Lacks  not  artillery  flashing  flame  and  night. 
Nor  the  fleet  ordnance  whirl' d  by  rapid  steed, 
That  rivals  lightening's  flash,  in  ruin  and  in  speed. 

A  various  host — from  kindred  realms  they  came, 
Brethren  in  arms,  but  rivals  in  renown — 
For  yon  fair  bands  shall  merry  England  claim, 
And  with  their  deeds  of  valor  deck  her  crown. 
Iter's  their  bold  port,  and  her's  their  martial  frown, 
And  her's  their  scorn  of  death  in  Freedom's  cause, 
Their  eyes  of  azure,  and  their  locks  of  brown 
And  the  blunt  speech  that  bursts  without  a  pause, 
And  freebom  thoughts,  which  league  the  soldier  with  the  lawa. 

And,  oh !  loved  warriors  of  the  Minstrel's  land! 
Yonder  your  bonnets  nod,  your  tartans  wave ! 
The  rugged  form  may  mark  the  mountain  band, 
And  harsher  features,  and  a  mien  more  grave, 
But  ne'er  in  battle-field  throbb'd  heart  so  brave 
As  that  which  beats  beneath  the  Scottish  plaid; 
And  when  the  pffaroch  bids  the  battle  rave. 
And  level  for  the  charge  your  arms  are  laid. 
Where  lives  the  desperate  foe,  that  for  such  onset  staid 

Hark !  from  yon  stately  ranks  what  laughter  rings. 
Mingling  wild  mirth  with  war's  stem  minstrelsy. 
His  jest  while  each  blithe  comrade  round  him  flings, 
And  moves  to  death  with  military  glee: 
Boast,  Erin,  boast  them !  tameless,  frank  and  free, 
In  kindness  warm,  and  fierce  in  danger  known, 
Rough  Nature's  children,  humorous  as  she: 
And  HB,*yon  Chieftain — strike  the  proudest  tone 
Of  thy  bold  harp,  green  Isle ! — the  Hero  is  thine  own. 


THE   HUGUENOT  BATTLE  HYMN. 

Kow,  glory  to  the  LovfL  of  Hosts,  from  whom  all  glories  are! 
And  glory  to  our  soverign  liege.  King  Henry  of  Navarre ! 
Now,  let  there  be  the  merry  sound  of  music  and  of  dance, 
Through  thy  corn-fields  green,  and  sunny  vines,  oh,  pleasant  land  of  Frano* 

•  Wellington. 


108  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRY. 

And  thou,  Rochelle,  our  own  Rochelle,  proud  city  of  the  waters, 
Again  let  rapture  light  the  eyes  of  all  thy  mourning  daughters. 
As  thou  wert  constant  in  our  ills,  be  joyous  in  our  joy, 
For  cold,  and  stiff,  and  still,  are  they  who  wrought  thy  walls  annoj. 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  a  single  field  hath  turned  the  chance  of  war, 
Hurrah  !  hurrah !  for  Ivry,  and  King  Henry  of  Navarre ; 

Oh!  how  our  hearts  were  beating,  when,  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
We  saw  the  army  of  the  League  drawn  out  in  long  array; 
With  all  its  priest-led  citizens,  and  all  its  rebel  peers, 
And  Appenzel's  stout  infantry,  and  Egtnont's  Flemish  spears. 
There  rode  the  brood  of  false  Lorraine,  the  curses  of  our  land! 
And  dark  Mayenne  was  in  the  midst,  a  truncheon  in  his  hand; 
And,  as  we  looked  on  them,  we  thought  of  Seine's  empurpled  flood, 
And  good  Coligni's  hoary  hair  all  dabbled  with  his  blood; 
And  we  cried  unto  the  living  Power  who  rules  the  fate  of  war, 
To  fight  for  His  own  holy  name,  and  Henry  of  Navarre! 

The  king  is  come  to  marshal  us,  in  all  his  armour  drest; 

And  he  has  hound  a  snow-white  plume  upon  his  gallant  crest. 

He  looked  upon  his  people,  and  a  tear  was  in  his  eye; 

He  looked  upon  the  traitors,  and  his  glance  was  stem  and  high; 

Right  graciously  he  smiled  on  us,  as  rolled,  from  wing  to  wing, 

Down  all  our  line,  a  deafening  shout,  "Long  live  our  Lord  the  King.'— 

"And  if  my  standard  bearer  fall,  as  fall  full  well  he  may — 

"For  never  saw  I  promise  yet  of  such  a  bloody  fray — 

"Press  where  ye  see  my  white  plume  shine,  amidst  the  ranks  of  war, 

"And  be  your  oriflamme  to-day,  the  helmet  of  Navarre." 

Hurrah!  the  foes  are  moving!  Hark  to  the  mingled  din 

Of  fife,  and  steed,  and  trump,  and  drum,  and  roaring  culverin! 

The  fiery  Duke  is  pricking  fast  across  Saint  Andre's  plain. 

With  all  the  hireling  chivalry  of  Guelders  and  Almayne. 

"Now,  by  the  lips  of  those  ye  love,  fair  gentlemen  of  France, 

"Charge  for  the  golden  lilies  now—  upon  them  with  the  lance!" 

A  thousand  spurs  are  striking  deep,  a  thousand  spears  in  rest, 

A  thousand  knights  are  pressing  close  behind  the  snow-white  crest; 

And  in  they  burst,  and  on  on  they  rushed,  while,  like  a  guiding  star, 

Amidst  the  thickest  carnage  blazed  the  helmet  of  Navarre. 

Now,  Heaven  be  praised,  the  day  is  ours!  Mayenne  hath  turned  his  rein. 
D' Aumale  hath  cried  for  quarter.     The  Flemish  Count  is  slain. 
Their  ranks  are  breaking  like  thin  clouds  before  a  Biscay  gale; 
The  field  is  heaped  with  bleeding  steeds,  and  flags,  and  cloven  maiL 
And  then  we  thought  on  vengeance,  and  all  along  our  van, 
■■Remember  St.  Bartholomew!"  was  passed  from  man  to  man; 
But  out  spake  gentle  Henry,  "No  Frenchman  is  my  foe: 
"Down,  down  with  every  foreigner,  but  let  your  brethren  go." 
Oh!  was  there  ever  such  a  knight,  in  friendship  or  in  war. 
As  our  sovereign  lord.  King  Henry,  the  soldier  of  Navarre! 

Ho'  maidens  of  Vienna  !  Ho !  matrons  of  Lucerne  !  * 

Weep,  weep,  and  rend  your  hair,  for  those  who  never  shall  return 
Ho !  Philip,  send,  for  charity,  thy  Mexican  pistoles. 
That  Antwerp  monlwS  may  sing  a  mass  for  thy  poor  spearmen's  souls! 


ORIGINAL  AND   SELECTED   POETRY.  10& 

Ho !  gallant  nobles  of  the  League,  look  that  your  arms  be  bright ! 
Ho !  burghers  of  St.  Genevieve,  keep  watch  and  ward  to-night ! 
For  our  God  hath  crushed  the  tyrant,  our  Gtod  hath  raised  the  slave, 
And  mocked  the  counsel  of  the  wise,  and  the  valour  of  the  brave. 
Then  glory  to  His  holy  name,  from  whom  all  glories  are; 
And  glory  to  our  sovereign  lord,  King  Henry  of  Navarre ! 

MACAULAY 


THE  DEEP. 

BT  MRS   HEHANS. 

Thoit  art  sounding  on,  thou  mighty  sea,  for  ever  and  the  same ! 

The  ancient  rocks  yet  ring  to  thee,  whose  thunders  nought  can  tame. 

The  Dorian  flute,  that  sigh'd  of  yore  along  thy  wave,  is  still; 

The  harp  of  Judah  peals  no  more  on  Zion's  awful  hill. 

And  Memnon's  too,  hath  lost  the  chord  that  breathed  the  mystic  tone; 

And  the  songs  at  Rome's  high  triumphs  pour'd  are  with  her  eagles  flown. 

And  mute  the  Moorish  horn,  that  rang  o'er  stream  and  mountain  free, 

And  the  hymn  the  leam'd  Crusaders  sang  hath  died  in  Galilee. 

But  thou  art  swelling  on,  thou  deep,  through  many  an  olden  clime. 

Thy  billowy  anthem  ne'er  te  sleep  until  the  close  of  time ! 


THE  BRAVE  OLD  WORIiD. 

BY  GEORGE    LUNT. 

There  once  was  a  world  and  a  brave  old  world 

Away  in  the  ancient  time. 
When  the  men  were  brave  and  the  women  fair. 

And  the  world  was  in  its  prime, 
And  the  priest  he  had  his  book. 

And  the  scholar  had  his  gown. 
And  the  old  knight  stout,  he  walked  about, 

With  his  broadsword  hanging  down 

Ye  may  see  this  world  was  a  brave  old  world, 

In  the  days  long  past  and  gone. 
And  the  sun,  he  shone,  and  the  rain,  it  rained. 

And  the  world  went  merrily  on; 
The  shepherd  kept  his  sheep, 

And  the  milkmaid  milked  her  kine. 
And  the  serving-man  was  a  sturdy  loon 

In  a  cap  and  a  doublet  fine. 

And  I've  been  told,  in  this  brave  old  world. 

There  were  jolly  times  and  free; 
And  they  laughed  and  sung,  till  the  welkin  rung. 

All  under  the  greenwood  tree; 


110  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRT. 

The  sexton  chimed  his  sweet,  sweet  bells, 
And  the  huntsman  wound  his  horn, 

And  the  hunt  went  out,  with  a  merry  shout, 
Beneath  the  jovial  morn. 

Oh!  the  golden  days  of  the  brave  old  world, 

Made  hall  and  cottage  shine ! 
The  squire,  he  sat  in  his  oaken  chair, 

And  quaffed  the  good  red  wine; 
The  lovely  village  maiden, 

She  was  the  village  queen. 
And,  by  the  mass,  tripped  through  the  gra«s, 

To  the  Maypole  on  the  green. 

When  trumpets  roused  this  brave  old  world 

And  banners  flaunted  wide. 
The  knight  bestrode  his  stalwart  steed, 

And  the  page  rode  by  his  side; 
And  plumes  and  pennons  tossing  bright 

Dashed  through  the  wild  melee, 
And  he  who  prest,  amid  them  best 

Was  lord  of  all,  that  day. 

And  ladies  fair,  in  the  brave  old  world, 

They  ruled  with  wondrous  sway, 
But  the  stoutest  knight,  he  was  lord  of  right, 

As  the  strongest  is  to-day; 
The  baron  bold,  he  kept  his  hold, 

Her  bower  his  bright  ladye. 
But  the  forrester  kept  the  good  greenwood, 

All  under  the  greenwood  tree. 

Oh,  how  they  laugh'd  in  the  brave  old  world, 

And  flung  grim  care  away! 
And  when  they  were  tired  of  working, 

They  held  it  time  to  play. 
The  bookman  was  a  reverend  wight. 

With  a  studious  face  so  pale, — 
And  the  curfew-bell,  with  its  sullen  swell, 

Broke  duly  on  the  gale. 

And  so  went  by,  in  this  brave  old  world, 

Those  merry  days  and  free; 
The  king  drank  wine  and  the  clown  drank  ale, 

Each  man  in  his  degree; 
And  some  ruled  well,  and  some  ruled  ill, 

And  thus  passed  on  the  time, 
With  jolly  ways  in  those  brave  old  days 

When  the  world  was  in  its  prime* 


ORIGINAL  AND   SELECTED   POETRY.  Ill 

JTAPOIiEON'S    EPITAPH. 

BY   LYDIA    H.  SIGOUENEY. 

•'The  moon  of  St.  Helena  shone  out,  and  there  we  saw  the  face  of  Kapoleoc'l 
Mpolchre,  characterless  uninscribed." 

And  who  shall  write  thine  epitaph?  thou  man 
Of  mystery  and  might* 

Shall  orphan  hands 
Inscribe  it  with  their  fathers'  broken  swordsl 
Or  the  warm  trickling  of  the  widow's  tear, 
Channel  it  slowly  'mid  the  rugged  rock, 
As  the  keen  torture  of  the  water  drop 
Doth  wear  the  sentenced  brainl 

Shall  countless  ghosts 
Arise  from  Hades,  and  in  lurid  flame 
With  shadowy  fingers  trace  thine  eflBgy, 

Who  sent  them  to  their  audit  unanneal'd,  *. 

And  with  but  that  brief  space  for  shrift  or  prayer,  c 

.  Oiren  at  the  cannon's  mouth?  r'  '' 

Thou  who  didst  sit 
Like  eagle  on  the  apex  of  the  globe, 
And  hear  the  murmur  of  its  conquered  tribes, 
As  chirp  the  weak-voiced  nations  cf  the  grass, 
Why  art  thou  sepulchered  in  yon  far  Isle, 
Ton  little  speck,  which  scarce  the  mariner 
Descries  'mid  ocean's  foam'?    Thou  who  didst  hew 
A  pathway  for  thy  host  above  the  cloud, 
Guiding  their  footsteps  o'er  the  frost-work  crown 
Of  the  thron'd  Alps, —  why  dost  thou  sleep  unmark'd. 
Even  by  such  slight  memento  as  the  hind 
Carves  on  his  own  coarse  tomb-stonel 

Bid  the  throng 
Who  pour'd  thee  incense,  as  Olympian  Jove, 
And  breath'd  thy  thunders  on  the  battle  field, 
Betum,  and  rear  thy  monument.    Those  forms 
O'er  the  wide  valleys  of  red  slaughter  spread. 

From  pole  to  tropic,  and  from  zone  to  zone,  t 

Heed  not  thy  clarion  call.    But  should  they  rise,  [ 

As  in  the  vision  that  the  prophet  saw,  * 

And  each  dry  bone  its  sever'd  fellow  find. 
Piling  their  pillar'ddust,  as  erst  they  gave 
Their  Tor  thee,  the  wondering  stars  might  deem 

A  set  0  the  puny  pride  of  man 

Did  tealth  upon  its  Babel  stairs. 

Tod  them.    But  here  unwept  thou  art, 

Like  'H  in  his  thicket-lair. 

With  1  Ivingman,  nor  spirit  condem'd, 

To  wrii  I  epitaph. 


112  ORIOINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRY. 

Invoke  the  climes, 
Who  serv'd  as  playthings  in  thy  desperate  game 
Of  mad  ambition,  or  their  treasure  strew'd 
Till  meagre  famine  on  their  vitals  prey'd 
To  pay  thy  reckoning. 

France !  who  gave  so  free 
.  Thy  life  stream  to  his  cup  of  wine,  and  saw 

That  purple  vintage  shed  o'er  half  the  earth, 
Write  thejirst  line,  if  thou  hast  blood  to  spare. 
Thou  too,  whose  pride  did  deck  dead  Caesar's  tomb 
And  chant  high  requiem  o'er  the  tyrant  band 
Who  had  their  birth  with  thee,  lend  us  thine  arts 
Of  sculpture  and  of  classic  eloquence 
To  grace  his  obsequies,  at  whose  dark  frown 
Thine  ancient  spirit  quail'd;  and  to  the  list 
Of  mutilated  kings,  who  glean'd  their  meat 
'Neath  Agag's  table,  add  the  name  of  Rome. 
— Turn,  Austria !  iron  brow'd  and  stem  of  heart, 
And  on  his  monument,  to  whom  thou  gav'st 
In  anger,  battle,  and  in  craft  a  bride, 
Grave  Austerlitz,  and  fiercely  turn  away. 
— As  the  rein'd  war-horse  snufiFs  the  trumpet-blast, 
Rouse  Prussia  from  her  trance  with  Jena's  name, 
And  bid  her  witness  to  that  fame  which  soars 
O'er  him  of  Macedon,  and  shames  the  vaunt 
Of  Scandinavia's  madman. 

From  the  shades 
Of  letter'd  ease,  Oh  Germany  !  come  forth 
With  pen  of  fire,  and  from  thy  troubled  scroll 
Such  as  thou  spread'st  at  Leipsic,  gather  tints 
Of  deeper  character  than  bold  romance 
Hath  ever  imag'd  in  her  wildest  dream. 
Or  history  trusted  to  her  sibyl-leaves- 
Hail  lotus  crown' d !  in  thy  green  childhood  fed, 
By  stiflF-neck'd  Pharaoh,  and  the  shepherd  kings, 
Hast  thou  no  tale  of  him  who  drench' d  thy  sands 
At  Jaffa  and  Aboukir  7  when  the  flight 
Of  rushing  souls  went  up  so  strange  and  strong 
To  the  accusing  spirits 'S 

Glorious  Isle! 
Whose  thrice  enwreathed  chain,  Promethean  like 
Did  bind  him  to  the  fatal  rock,  we  ask 
Thy  deep  memento  for  this  marble  tomb. 
— Ho !  fur-clad  Russia !  with  thy  spear  of  frost, 
Or  with  thy  winter-mocking  Cossack's  lance. 
Stir  the  cold  memories  of  thy  vengeful  brain, 
And  give  the  last  line  ef  our  epitaph. 
— But  there  was  silence:  for  no  sceptred  hand 
Receiv'd  the  challenge. 


ORIGIKAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRY.  113 

From  the  misty  deep 
Rise,  Island-spirits !  like  those  sisters  three, 
Who  spin  and  cut  the  trembling  thread  of  life; 
Rise  on  your  coral  pedestals,  and  write 
That  eulogy  which  haughtier  climes  deny. 
Come,  for  ye  lull'd  him  in  your  matron  arms. 
And  cheer'd  his  exile  with  the  name  of  king, 
And  spread  that  curtain' d  couch  which  none  disturb, 
Come,  twine  some  trait  of  household  tenderness 
Some  tender  leaflot,nurs'd  with  Nature's  tears 
Around  this  urn.     But  Corsica,  who  rock'd 
His  cradle  at  Ajaccio,  tum'd  away. 
And  tiny  Elba,  in  the  Tuscan  wave 
Threw  her  slight  annal  with  the  haste  of  fear, 
And  rude  Helena  sick  at  heart,  and  grey 
'Neath  the  Pacific's  smiting,  bade  the  moon. 
With  silent  finger,  point  the  traveller's  gaze 
To  an  unhonor'd  tomb. 

Then  Earth  arose. 
That  blind,  old  Empress,  on  her  crumbling  throne, 
And  to  the  echoed  question,  "Who  shall  write 
Napoleon's  epitaph?"  as  one  who  broods 
O'er  unforgiven  injuries,  answer'd  "none." 


WAR-SOHTG  OF  THE  GRBEiKS. 

BY  PROCTOR — (BARRY  CORNWALL.) 

Awake  !  'tis  the  terror  of  war ! 

The  crescent  is  tossed  on  the  wind: 
But  our  flag  flies  on  high  like  the  perilous  star 

Of  the  battle.    Before  and  behind, 
Wherever  it  glitters,  it  darts 
Bright  death  into  tyrannous  hearts. 

Who  are  they  that  now  bid  us  be  slaves? 

They  are  foes  to  the  good  and  the  free; 
<x0,  bid  them  first  fetter  the  might  of  the  waves ! 

The  sea  may  be  conquered, — but  we 
Have  spirits  untamable  still. 
And  the  strength  to  be  free, — and  the  will ! 

The  Helots  are  come:    In  their  eyes 
Proud  hate  and  fierce  massacre  bum; 

They  hate  us, — but  shall  they  despise"? 
They  are  come;  shall  they  ever  return? 

O  God  of  the  Greeks !  from  thy  throne 
Look  down,  and  we'll  conquer  alone ! 


114  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRT. 

Our  fathers, — each  man  was  a  god, 

His  will  was  a  law,  and  the  sound 
Of  his  voice,  like  a  spirit's,  was  worshipped:  ho  trodj 
And  thousands  fell  worshippers  round: 
,  From  the  gates  of  the  West  to  the  Sun. 

He  bade,  and  his  bidding  was  done. 

And  we — shall  we  die  in  our  chains. 
Who  once  were  as  free  as  the  wind? 

Who  is  it  that  threatens, — who  is  it  arraigns'? 
Are  they  princes  of  Europe  or  Ind? 

Are  they  kings  to  the  uttermost  pole? 

They  are  dogs,  with  a  taint  on  their  soull 


THE  SOLiDIER'S  FUHT ERAIj. 

L.  B.  L.  (MRS.  MACLEAN.) 

Tbb  muffled  drum  roU'donthe  air. 
Warriors  with  stately  step  were  there; 
On  every  arm  was  the  black  crape  bound, 
Every  caibine  was  tum'd  to  the  ground: 
Solemn  the  sound  of  their  measur'd  tread. 
As  silent  and  slow  they  foUow'd  the  dead. 
The  riderless  horse  was  led  in  the  rear. 
There  were  white  plumes  waving  o'er  the  bier, 
Helmet  and  sword  were  laid  on  the  pall. 
For  it  was  a  soldier's  funeral 

That  soldier  had  stood  on  the  battle-plain, 
Where  every  step  was  over  the  slain: 
But  the  brand  and  the  ball  had  pass'd  him  by. 
And  he  came  to  his  native  land  to  die. 
'Twas  hard  to  come  to  that  native  land, 
And  not  to  clasp  one  familiar  hand  ! 
'Twas  hard  to  be  number'd  amid  the  dead, 
Or  ere  he  could  hear  his  welcome  said ! 
But  'twas  something  to  see  its  cliffs  once  more, 
And  to  lay  his  bones  on  his  own  lov'd  shore; 
To  think  that  the  friends  of  his  youth  might  weep 
O'er  the  green  grass  turf  of  the  soldier's  sleep. 

The  bugles  ceas'd  their  wailing  sound 
As  the  coffin  was  lower'd  into  the  ground: 
A  volley  was  fir'd,  a  blessing  said, 
One  moment's  pause — and  they  left  the  dead'— • 
I  saw  a  poor  and  an  aged  man, 
Hia  step  was  feeble,  bis  lip  was  wan: 


ORIGINAL   AND   SKLBOTKD   POKTRT.  115 

He  knelt  him  down  on  the  new-raised  moand, 
Hia  face  vraa  bow'd  on  the  cold  damp  ground, 
He  rais'd  his  head,  his  tears  were  done, — 
Ihe  7ATHEB  had  pray'd  o'er  his  only  son. 


THE  liADY  OF  PROVEilirCB. 

BT  MRS.   HEUANS. 

The  war-note  of  the  Saracen 
Was  on  the  winds  of  France; 
It  had  still'd  the  harp  of  the  troubadour, 
And  the  clash  of  the  tourney's  lance. 
The  sounds  of  the  sea,  and  the  sounds  of  the  nighty 
And  the  hollow  echoes  of  charge  and  flight, 
Were  around  Clotilda,  as  she  knelt  to  pray 
In  a  chapel  where  the  mighty  lay, 
On  the  old  Provencal  shore: 
Many  a  Chatillon  beneath, 
Unstirr'd  by  the  ringing  trumpets'  breath, 
His  shroud  of  armour  wore. 
But  meekly  the  voice  of  the  Lady  rose 
Through  the  trophies  of  their  proud  repose; 
And  her  fragile  frame,  at  every  blast 
That  full  of  the  savage  war-horn  pass'd. 
Trembling,  as  trembles  a  bird's  quick  heart 
When  it  vainly  strives  from  its  cage  to  part,— 
So  knelt  she  in  her  woe; 
A  weeper  alone  with  the  tearless  dead ! 
— Oh,  they  reck  not  of  tears  o'er  their  quiet  shed, 
Or  the  dust  had  stirr'd  below  ! 

Hark !  a  swift  step:  she  hath  taught  its  tone 
Through  the  dash  of  the  sea,  through  the  wild  wind's  moan. 
Is  her  lord  return'd  with  his  conqueri  ng  bands  1 
No !  a  breathless  vassal  before  her  stands ! 
"Hast  thou  been  on  the  field'?  art  thou  come  from  the  host  T 
"From  the  slaughter,  Lady  !  all,  all  is  lost ! 
"Our  banners  are  taken — our  knights  laid  low^ 
"Our  spearmen  chas'd  by  the  Paynim  foe — 
"And  thy  lord' — his  voice  took  a  sadder  sound 
"Thy  lord — he  is  not  on  the  bloody  ground ! 
"There  are  those  who  tell  that  the  leader's  plume 
"Was  seen  on  the  flight,  through  th  e  gathering  gloom  I" 

A  change  o'er  her  mien  and  spirit  pass'd: 
She  ruled  the  heart  which  ha  "I  be»t  so  fast; 
She  dash'd  the  tears  from  her  kindling  eye, 
With  a  glance  as  of  sudden  royalty. 


116 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRY. 


V 

I 


•• — Dost  thou  standby  the  tombs  of  the  glorious  dead, 
*'And  fear  not  to  say  that  their  son  hath  fledl 
"Away  ! — he  is  lying  by  lance  and  shield:— 
"Point  me  the  path  to  his  battle  field ! 
Silently,  with  lips  compress' d. 
Pale  hands  clasp'd  above  her  breast, 
Stately  brow  of  anguish  high, 
Deathlike  cheek,  but  dauntless  eye; — 
Silently,  o'er  that  red  plain, 
Mov'd  the  Lady  midst  the  slain. 
She  search'd  into  many  an  unclosed  eye, 
That  look'd  without  soul  to  the  starry  sky; 
She  bow'd  down  o'er  many  a  shatter'd  breast, 
She  lift«d  up  helmet  and  cloren  crest — 
Not  there,  not  there  he  lay ! 
"Lead  where  the  most  hath  been  dar'd  and  done; 
"AVhere  the  heart  of  the  battle  hath  bled;~  Lead  on  l"— 
And  the  vassal  took  the  way. 

He  tnm'd  to  a  dark  and  lonely  tree 

That  wav'd  o'er  a  fountain  red: 
Oh,  swiftest  there  had  the  current  free, 
From  noble  veins  been  shed  ! 
Thickest  there  the  spear-heads  gleam' d, 
And  the  scatter'd  plumage  stream' d, 
And  the  broken  shields  were  tos&'d. 
And  the  shiver'd  lances  cross'd — 
Hx  WAS  THERE  !  the  leader  amidst  his  band, 
Where  the  faithful  had  made  their  last  vain  stand; 
With  the  faulchion  yet  in  his  cold  hand  grasp'd, 
And  his  country's  flag  to  his  bosom  clasp'd ! 
She  quelled  in  her  soul  the  deep  floods  of  woe, — 
The  time  was  not  yet  for  their  wave  to  flow; 
And  a  proud  smile  shone  o'er  her  pale  despair, 
As  she  turn' d  to  her  followers — ''Your  lord  is  there  I 
"Look  on  him  know  him  by  scarf  and  crest  t 
"Bear  hitn  away  with  his  sires  to  rest !" 

There  is  no  plum'd  head  o'er  the  bier  to  bend — 
No  brother  of  battle— ne  princely  friend: 

By  the  red  fountain  the  valiant  lie — 

The  flower  of  Prevencal  chivalry. 

But  one  free  step,  and  one  lofty  heart. 

Bear  through  that  scene,  to  the  last,  their  pait. 
"T  have  won  thy  fame  from  the  breath  of  wrong ! 
"My  soul  hath  risen  for  thy  glory  strong ! 
"Now  call  me  hence  by  thy  side  to  be: 
"The  world  thou  leav'st  has  no  place  for  me. 
"Qive  me  my  home  on  thy  noble  heart ! 
"Well  have  we  loved— let  us  both  depart!" 
And  pale  on  the  breast  of  the  dead  she  lay. 
The  living  cheek  to  the  cheek  of  clay. 


'I 


ORIGINAL    AND   SELECTED   POETRY.  .  IIT 

The  living  cheek !  oh,  it  was  not  in  vain 

That  strife  of  the  spirit,  to  rend  its  chain ! — 

She  is  there,  at  rest,  in  her  place  of  pride ! 

in  death,  how  queen-like ! — a  gloiious  bride  I 

From  the  long  heart-withering  early  gone: 

She  hath  lived —  she  hath  loved —  her  task  is  done ! 


THB    STARS    OF  NIGHT. 

By  FRANCES  BROWN. 

["The  blind  Poetess  of  Ulster"  Ireland.] 

Whence  are  your  glorious  goings  forth, — 

Ye  children  of  the  sky. 
In  whose  bright  silence  seems  the  power 

Of  all  eternity  7 
For  time  hath  let  his  shadow  fall 

O'er  many  an  ancient  light; 
■But  ye  walk  on  in  brightness  still — 

O,  glorious  stars  of  night ! 

The  vestal  lamp  of  Grecian  fane 

Hath  faded  long  ago: — 
On  Persian  hills  the  worshipped  flame 

Hath  lost  its  ancient  glow; — 
And  long  the  heaven-sent  fire  is  gone, 

With  Salem's  temple  bright; — 
But  ye  watch  o'er  wand'ring  Israel,  yet, 

0,  changeless  stars  of  night ! 

Long  have  ye  looked  upon  the  earth, 

O'er  vale  and  mountain-brow; 
Ye  saw  the  ancient  cities  rise, 

Ye  gild  their  ruins  now: 
Ye  beam  upon  the  cottage  home — 

The  conqueror's  path  of  might; 
And  shed  your  light  alike  on  all, 

0,  priceless  stars  of  night ! 

And  where  are  they  who  learned  from  yon 

The  fates  of  coming  time, 
Ere  yet  the  pyramids  arose 

Amid  their  desert  clime  1 
Yet  still  in  wilds  and  deserts  far, 

Ye  bless  the  watcher's  sight, — 
And  shine  where  bark  hath  never  been, 

0,  lovely  stars  of  night; 


118 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRT. 


Much  have  ye  seen  of  human  tears — 

Of  human  hope  and  love, — 
And  fearful  deeds  of  darkness  too, — 

Ye  witnesses  above ! 
Say;  will  that  blackening  record  live 

Forever  in  your  sight. 
Watching  for  judgment  on  the  earth,— 

0,  sleepless  stars  of  night ! 

How  glorious  was  your  song  that  rose 

With  the  first  morning's  dawn  ! 
And  still  amid  our  summer  sky. 

The  echo  lingers  on; — 
Though  ye  have  shone  on  many  a  grave, 

Since  Eden's  early  blight, 
JTe  tell  of  hope  and  glory,  still — 

0,  deathless  stars  of  night ! 


DREAMS  OF  THE  DEAD. 

BY  FRANCES    BUOWN. 

The  peasant  dreams  of  lowly  love, — 

The  prince  of  courtly  bowers, — 
And  exiles  through  the  midnight,  rove 

Among  their  native  flowers: — 
But  flowers  depart,  and  sere  and  chill, 

The  autumn  leaves  are  shed. 
And  roses  come  again — yet  still, 

My  dreams  are  of  the  dead. 

The  voices  in  my  slumbering  ear 

Have  woke  the  world,  of  old, — 
The  forms  that  in  my  dreams  appear 

Have  mingled  with  the  mould: 
Yet  still  they  rise  around  my  rest, 

In  all  their  peerless  prime, — 
The  names  by  new-bom  nations  blest — 

The  stars  of  elder  time  ! 


(-•■: 


They  come  from  old  and  sacred  piles, 

Where  glory's  ashes  sleep, — 
Prom  far  and  long-deserted  aisles, — 

From  desert  or  from  deep, — 
From  lands  of  ever  verdant  bowers. 

Unstained  by  mortal  tread; — 
Why  haunt  ye  thus  my  midnight  hours, 

Ye  far  and  famous  dead  1 


ORIGINAL   AND   SELECTKD       POKTRT.  llfr 

I  hare  not  walked  with  you  on  earth 

My  path  is  lone  and  low, — 
A  vale  where  laurels  have  not  birth, 

Nor  classic  waters  flow: 
But  on  the  sunrise  ofiuysoul 

Your  mighty  shades  were  cast, 
As  cloud  waves  o'er  the  morning  rolla,— 

Bright  children  of  the  past ! 

And  oft,  with  midnight  I  have  met 

The  early  wise  and  brave, 
Oh,  ever  great  and  glorious,  yet, 

As  if  there  were  no  grave  ! 
As  if  upon  their  path  of  dust, 

Had  been  no  trace  of  tears 
No  blighted  faith,  no  broken  trust 

Nor  waste  of  weary  years ! 

But  ah !  my  loved  of  early  days, — 

How  brightly  still  they  bring 
Upon  my  spirit's  batkward  gaza 

The  glory  of  its  spring  !  .        i. 

The  hopes  that  shared  their  timeless  doom 

Return  as  freshly  green 
As  though  the  portals  of  the  tomb 

Had  never  closed  between ! 

Oh !  man  may  climb  the  mountain  snow8| 

Or  search  the  ocean  wave. — 
Bat  who  will  choose  to  walk  with  those 

Whose  dwelling  is  the  g  ave  1 — 
Yet  when  upon  that  tideless  shore 

His  sweetest  flowers  are  shed, 
The  lonely  dreamer  shrinks  no  mora 

From  visions  of  the  dead ! 


THE  PICTURE  OF  THE  DEAD. 

BT   FRANCES    BROWN. 

A  Chief  from  his  distant  forest  came. 

To  the  pale  one's  lonely  tent; 
And  he  brought  such  gifts  as  a  prince  might  claim, 

By  an  Indian  monarch  sent- — 
And  "bright  may  the  sun  on  thy  dwelling  shine  I" 

Said  the  warrior  of  the  wild, — 
"Stranger,  the  gifts  I  bear  are  thine. 
Who  has  given  me  back  my  child  I 


120 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETBT. 


"My  child  who  passed  to  the  spirit-land,  • 

In  the  sunrise  of  her  years: — 
I  have  looked  for  her  in  our  woodland  band 

Till  mine  eyes  grew  dim  with  tears: 
But  her  shadow  bright  by  thy  pencil  traced. 

Still  sweet  in  my  dwelling  smiled 
And  the  hearth  she  left  is  not  yet  a  waste, — 

Thou  hast  giren  me  back  my  child ! 

"I  laid  her  low  in  the  place  of  graves, 

Where  the  ever-silent  slept 
And  the  summer  grass  in  its  greenness  wares 

Where  an  Indian  warrior  wept: — 
For  bright  was  our  star,  that  early  set, 

Till  we  lost  its  lustre  mild 
But  she  lives  in  her  changeless  beauty  yet, — 

Thou  hast  given  me  back  my  child ! 


"And  say !  when  our  young,  who  loved  her  well,. 

Like  the  pines  grow  old  and  hoar. 
Will  her  youth  still  last,  as  they  that  dwell 

Where  the  winter  comes  no  more  1 
When  the  early  love  of  her  heart  is  low 

Will  she  smile  as  she  ever  smiled  7 
Oh !  safe  from  the  withering  hand  of  woe 

Hast  thou  given  me  back  my  child  1 


f! 


'"Tis  well  with  those  of  thine  eastern  land; 

Though  their  loved  ones  may  depart 
The  magic  power  of  the  painters  hand 

Bestores  them  to  the  heart. 
Oh  !  long  may  the  light  of  their  presence  stay, 

Whose  love  tliy  griefs  beguiled ! 
And  blessings  brighten  thy  homeward  way,-> 

Who  hast  given  me  back  my  child !" 


STREAMS. 

BY    FRANCES    BROWN. 

Yz  early  minstrels  of  the  earth, — 

Whose  mighty  voices  woke 
The  echoes  of  its  infant  woods. 

Ere  yet  the  tempest  spoke  ! 
How  is  it  that  ye  waken  still 

The  young  hearts  happy  dreams, 
And  shed  your  light  on  darkened  days 

Oh  bright  and  blessed  streams ! 


ORIGINAL   AND   SSLGCTED    P0ETR7.  121 

Woe  for  the  world !  she  hath  grown  old 

And  gray,  in  toil  and  tears; — 
But  ye  have  kept  the  harmonies 

Of  her  unfallen  years: 
Forever,  in  our  weary  path 

Your  ceaseless  music  seems 
The  spirit  of  her  perished  youth, — 

Ye  glad  and  glorious  streams!  ,- 

Your  murmurs  bring  the  pleasant  breath 

Of  many  a  sylvan  scene, — 
They  tell  of  sweet  and  sunny  vales, 

And  woodlands  wildly  green. 
Ye  cheer  the  lonely  heart  of  age, — 

Ye  fill  the  exile's  dreams 
With  hope  and  home  and  memory, — 

Ye  unforgotten  streams ! 

Too  soon  the  blessed  springs  of  love  '^ 

To  bitter  fountains  turn. 
And  deserts  drink  the  stream  that  flows 

From  hope's  exhaustlese  urn. 
And  faint,  upon  the  waves  of  life, 

May  fall  the  summer  beams, — 
But  they  linger  long  and  bright  with  yot^ 

Ye  sweet  unchanging  streams !  '• 

The  bards — the  ancient  bards — who  sang 

When  thought  and  song  were  new, 
0,  mighty  waters  !  did  they  learn 

Their  minstrelsy  from  you  1 
For  still,  methinks,  your  voices  blend  3 

With  all  their  glorious  themes, 

That  flow  forever  fresh  and  free 
As  the  eternal  streams ! 

Well  might  the  saint«d  seer  of  of  old, 

Who  trod  the  tearless  shore, 
Like  many  waters  deem  the  voice 

The  angel  hosts  adore ! 
For  still,  where  deep  the  rivers  roll,  ? 

Or  far  the  torreut  gleams,  h 

Our  spirits  hear  the  voice  of  God, 
f  Amid  the  rush  of  streams! 


( 


122  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRT. 

THE  SPANISH    CONaUESTS    IJf   AMERICA. 

BY  FRANCES  BBOWH. 

Shades  of  Columbia's  perished  host! 

How  shall  a  stranger  tell 

The  deeds  that  glorified  your  coast,  ' 

Before  its  warriors  fell.  < 

Where  sleeps  thy  mountain  muse,  Peru !  ' 

And  Chili's  matchless  hills  of  dew,  { 

Had  they  no  harp  to  freedom  true,  * 

No  bard  of  native  fire 

To  sing  his  country's  ancient  fame, 

And  keep  the  brightness  of  her  name 

Unfading  as  the  worshipped  flame  1 — 

The  wealth  of  such  a  lyre 

Outvalues  all  the  blood-bought  ore 

That  e'or  Iberia's  galleons  bore. 

Iberia  !  on  thine  ancient  crown 

The  blood  of  nations  lies 

With  power  to  weigh  thy  glory  down,— 

With  voice  to  pierce  the  skies ! 

For  written  with  an  iron  pen, 

Upon  the  memories  of  men 

The  deeds  that  marked  thy  conquests  then, 

Forever  more  remain: — 

And  still  the  saddest  of  the  tale 

Is  Afric's  wild  and  iveary  wail, — 

Though  prelates  spread  the  slaver's  sail,  * 

And  forged  the  Negro's  chain; 

The  curse  of  trampled  liberty 

Forever  clings  to  thine  and  thee  ! 

*  AWsbop  is  said  to  have  suggested  to  the  emperor   Charles  the  Fifth,  the  Becestity 
•f  taitNdncing  Negro  slaves  into  the  American  colonies. 


BINGEN  ON   THE  RHINE. 

BY  MRS  NORTON. 

A  SOLDIER  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  in  Algiers, 

There  was  lack  of  woman  s  nursing  there  was  dearth  of  woman's  teaii 

Bat  a  comrade  stood  beside  him  as  his  life  blood  ebbed  away 

And  bent,  with  pitying  glances  to  hear  what  he  might  say. 

The  dying  soldier  faltered  as  he  took  that  comrade's  hand, 

And  he  said  "I  never  more  shall  see  my  own,  my  native  land. 

Take  a  message  and  a  token  to  some  distant  friends  of  mine 

Per  I  was  born  at  Bingen — at  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

"Tell  my  brothers  and  companions  when  they  meet  and  crowd  aroond, 
To  hear  my  mournful  story  in  the  pleasant  vineyard  ground. 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POKTRT.  123 

That  we  fought  the  battle  bravely  and  when  the  day  was  done, 
Full  many  corse  lay  ghastly  pale  beneath  the  setting  sun, 
And  'midst  the  dead  and  dying  were  some  grown  old  in  wars, 
The  death  wound  on  their  gallant  breasts  the  last  of  many  scars: 
But  some  were  young — and  suddenly  beheld  life's  mom  decline, 
And  one  had  come  from  Bingen — fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine  ! 

"  Tell  my  mother  that  her  other  sons  shall  comfort  her  old  age. 

And  I  was  still  a  truant  bird  that  thought  my  home  a  cage: 

For  my  father  was  a  soldier  and  even  as  a  child 

My  heart  leaped  forth  to  hear  him  tell  of  struggles  fierce  and  wild, 

And  when  he  died,and  left  us  to  divide  his  scanty  hoard 

I  let  them  take  whate'er  they  would  but  kept  my  fathei  's  sword 

And  with  boyish  love  I  hung  it  where  the  bright  light  used  to  shine 

On  the  cottage-wall  at  Bingen — calm  Bingen  on  the  Rhine  ! 

"Tell  my  sister  not  to  weep  for  me,  and  sob  with  drooping  head, 
When  the  troops  are  marching  home  with  glad  and  gallant  tread 
But  to  look  upon  them  proudly  with  a  calm  and  steadfast  eye. 
For  her  brother  was  a  soldier  and  not  afraid  to  die. 
And  if  a  comrade  seek  her  love,  I  ask  her  in  my  name 
To  listen  to  him  kindly  without  regret  or  shame: 
And  to  hang  the  old  sword  in  its  place  (my  father's  sword  and  mine) 
For  the  honor  of  old  Bingen, — dear  Bingen  on  the  Rhine ! 

"There's  another — not  a  sister;  in  the  happy  days  gone  by 

You'd  have  known  her  by  the  merriment  that  sparkled  in  her  eye; 

Too  innocent  for  coquetry, — too  fond  for  idle  scorning. — 

Oh !  friends,  I  fear  the  lightest  heart  makes  sometimes  heaviest  mourning. 

Tell  her  the  last  night  of  my  life  (for  ere  this  moon  be  risen 

My  body  will  be  out  of  pain — my  soul  be  out  of  prison.) 

I  dreamed  I  stood  with  her,  and  saw  the  yellow  sunlight  shine 

On  the  vine  clad  hills  of  Bingen, — fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

"I  saw  the  blue  Rhine  sweep  along — I  heard  or  seemed  to  hear 

The  German  songs  we  used  to  sing,  in  chorus  sweet  and  clear 

And  down  the  pleasant  river,  and  up  the  slanting  hill. 

The  echoing  chorus  sounded  through  the  evening  calm  and  still, 

And  her  glad  blue  eyes  were  on  me  as  we  passed  with  friendly  talk 

Down  many  a  path  beloved  of  yore,  and  well  remembered  walk 

And  her  little  hand  lay  lightly, — confidingly  in  mine 

Bat  we'll  meet  no  more  at  Bingen — loved  Bingen  on  the  Rhine, 


WEEP  NOT   FOR   HIM   THAT  DIETH. 

BY  MRS   NORTON. 

"Weep  ye  not  for  the  dead,  neither  bemoan  him;  but  weep  iore  for  him  that  g^th 
away,  for  he  shall  return  no  more:  nor  see  his  native  country.'' — Jeremiah  XXQ  10 

Weep  not  for  him  that  dieth — 

For  he  sleeps,  and  is  at  rest; 
And  the  couch  whereon  he  lieth 

Is  the  green  earth's  quiet  breast; 
But  weep  for  him  who  pineth 

On  a  far  land's  hateful  shore, 


124  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POiCTRr. 

Who  wearily  decl  ineth 
Where  ye  see  his  face  no  more  ! 

Weep  not  for  him  that  dieth 

For  friends  are  round  his  bed. 
And  many  a  young  lip  sigheth 

When  they  name  the  early  dead  : 
But  weep  for  him  that  liveth 

Where  none  will  know  or  care, 
When  the  groan  his  faint  heart  giveth 

Is  the  last  sigh  of  despair. 

Weep  not  for  him  that  dieth, 

For  his  struggling  soul  is  free, 
And  the  world  from  which  it  flietb 

Is  a  world  of  misery : 
But  weep  for  him  that  weareth 

The  captive's  galling  chain  : 
To  the  agony  he  beareth, 

Death  were  hut  little  pain. 

Weep  not  for  him  that  dieth 

For  he  hath  ceased  from  tears, 
And  a  voice  to  his  replieth 

Which  he  had  not  heard  for  years  ; 
But  weep  for  him  who  weepeth 

On  that  cold  land's  cruel  shore — 
Blest,  blest  is  he  that  sleepeth. 

Weep  for  the  dead  no  more. 


THE  STRANGER'S  HEART. 

BY   MRS.    HEMANS. 

The  stranger's  heart !  oh !  wound  it  not ! 
A  yearning  anguish  is  its  lot ; 
In  the  green  shadow  of  thy  tree. 
The  stranger  finds  no  rest  with  thee. 

Thou  think'st  the  vines  low  rustling  leaves. 
Glad  music  round  thy  household  eaves ; 
To  him  that  sound  hath  sorrow's  tone — 
The  stranger's  heart  is  with  his  own. 

Thou  think'st  thy  children's  laughing  play, 
A  lovely  sight  at  fall  of  day  ; — 
Then  are  the  stranger's  thoughts  oppressed — 
His  mother's  voice  comes  o'er  his  breast. 

Thou  think'st  it  sweet  when  friend  with  friend 
Beneath  one  roof  in  prayer  may  blend  ; 
Then  does  the  stranger's  eye  grow  dim, — 
Far,  far  are  those  who  prayed  with  him. 


ORIGINAL   AKD    SBLSCTBD    PORTRT.  125 

Thy  hearth,  thy  home,  thy  vintago  land— 
The  voices  of  thy  kindred  band — 
Oh !  'midst  them  all  when  blest  thou  art, 
Deal  gently  with  the  stranger's  heart. 


'  THE  MESSAGE  TO  THE  DEAD. 

BY  URS.  HEUANS. 

'*  Meuages  from  the  IiTing  to  the  dead  are  not  nncommon  in  the  Highlands.  The 
Ctael  have  such  a  ceaseless  congciousneBS  of  immortality,  that  their  departed  friends  are 
considered  as  merely  absent  for  a  time,  and  permitted  to  relieve  the  hours  of  separation 
by  occasional  intercourse  with  the  objects  of  their  earliest  afl'ections." 

Thou'bt  passing  hence  my  brother ! 

Oh !  my  earliest  friend  farewell ! 
Thou'rt  leaving  me  without  thy  voice, 

In  a  lonely  home  to  dwell ; 
And  from  the  hills  and  from  the  hearth 

And  from  the  household-tree. 
With  thee  departs  the  lingering  mirth 

The  brightness  goes  with  thea 

But  thou,  my  friend,  my  brother  I 

Thou'rt  speeding  to  the  shore. 
Where  the  dirge  like  tone  of  parting  words 

Shall  smite  the  ear  no  more  ! 
And  thou  will  see  our  holy  dead  : 

The  lost  on  earth  and  main : 
Into  the  sheaf  of  kindred  hearts 

Thou  wilt  be  bound  again ! 

Tell  then,  our  friend  of  boyhood 

That  yet  his  name  is  heard 
On  the  blue  mountains,  whence  his  youth 

Passed  like  a  swift  bright  bird. 
The  light  of  his  exulting  brow, 

The  vision  of  his  glee, 
I  Are  on  me  still — Oh  1  still  I  trust 

TBat  smile  again  to  see. 

I  And  tell  our  fair  young  sister,  ; 

I  The  rose  cut  down  in  spring,  ' 

I  That  yet  my  gushing  soul  is  filled 

With  lays  she  loved  to  sing. 
Her  soft  deep  eyes  look  through  my  dreanu, 

Render  and  sadly  sweet ; — 
Tell  her  my  heart  within  me  burns 
Onoe  more  that  gaze  to  meet ! 

And  tell  our  white-haired  father  ' 

'  That  in  the  paths  he  trod  I 


126  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POBTRT. 

'  The  cbild  he  loved,  the  last  on  earth 

Yet  walks  and  worships  God. 
Say,  that  hia  last  fond  blessing  yet 

Rests  on  my  soul  like  dew, 
And  by  its  hallowing  might  I  trust 

Once  more  his  face  to  view. 

'     1 
And  tell  our  gentle  mother. 

That  on  her  grave  I  pour  S 

The  sorrows  of  my  spirit  forth 

As  on  her  breast  of  yore.  I 

Happy  thou  art  that  soon,  how  soon,  ' 

Our  good  and  bright  will  see ! 
Oh  •  brother,  brother !  may  I  dwell, 

Ere  long,  with  them  and  thee. 


THE  YOUNG  PASTOR. 

-v, 

BOARDHILLS 

He  came  to  see  his  father's  hall — 

Sweet  cottage  of  the  West —  , 

He  came  to  grace,  at  Beauty's  call, 

The  home  his  heart  lovod  best 

He  came,  in  manly  bloom  and  power, 

The  son  of  many  a  prayer  ; 
He  came  to  rest  in  Mossy-bower, 

For  sunshine  lingered  there. 

He  came,  the  herald  of  the  Lord, 

With  honours  freshly  strewn  : 
He  came  to  speak  the  Holy  Word, 

To  hearts  so  like  his  own. 

He  came  to  cheer  the  parent  hearts,  < 

His  own,  his  dearest  shrine ;  •  ■ 

He  came  to  prove  the  mystic  arts,  f 

So  often  proved  Divine.  I 

t 

He  came,  and  many  thronged  around —  j 

The  good,  the  learned,  the  fair  ; 
And  eyes  did  beam,  and  hearts  did  bound — 

Such  eyes,  such  hearts  were  there  ! 

And  sweetly  poured  the  voice  of  song, 

In  tones  of  thrilling  power,  < 

From  maiden  lips,  that  made  us  long 

To  chain  the  happy  hour. 


ORIGINAL   AND   SELECTED   POXTRT.  127 

He  came  to  snmmon  up  the  past 

From  Memory's  treasured  store — 
The  joys  of  youth  too  sweet  to  last — 

That  can  return  no  more. 

He  came  with  manhood's  ardent  gaze, 

To  look  where  none  may  ope ; 
To  read  the  book  of  coming  days, 

Which  none  may  read,  but  hope. 

He  came  from  the  land  of  hill  and  flood, 

The  land  of  the  good  and  brave — 
All  sprinkled  yet  with  martyr-blood. 

All  gemmed  with  the  martyr  grave. 

To  that  land  he  turned  in  hope  and  fear, 

At  duty's  sacred  call — 
His  own  adopted,  holy  sphere. 

His  future  home  and  all. 

He  looked  around  whsre  all  was  dear, 

The  scenes  of  halcyon  days ; 
The  home  of  love,  and  light,  and  cheer, 

The  altar  home  of  praise. 

The  aged  sire,  the  mother  loved, 

The  sisters  good  and  fair. 
The  brother  fond,  the  friends  so  moved. 

All  circled  round  him  there. 

Home,  kindred,  country,  bade  him  stay. 

And  Church  he  loved  so  tme ; 
He  loved  them  all — but  turned  away, 

With  voiceless,  fond  adieu. 

We  bade  him  go — for  Erin  owes. 

To  Scotia's  church  her  son, 
(The  shamrock  for  the  thistle-rose,) 

For  Scotia  gave  us  one. 

May  Bethlehem's  lovely  star  him  guide. 

And  smile  in  radiance  down ; 
Long  may  he  waft  Christ's  banner  wide, 

"  For  Covenant  and  Crown." 

Loved  may  he  live — missed  may  he  die- 
Souls  prosper  in  his  hand — 

Nor  come  the  day,  when  he  shall  5igh 
He  left  his  fatherland. 


128  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRY. 

THE  REFORMATION. 

BOARDMILLS. 

Wherk  is  the  God  of  Salem?  where 

Our  Scottish  glory  given  1 
Where  Knox's  spirit — Melville's  care—  f 

The  soul  of  fire,  the  hand  to  dare,  } 

Reforming  gifts  of  heaven  9  f' 


When  Scotia,  from  her  hills  of  blue, 
Her  glens  and  mosses  given, 

Beheld  the  truth  burst  on  her  view, 

Aside  the  crucifix  she  threw, 

And  seized  the  Book  oV  Heaven ! 

Her  chieftati  Knox  her  banner  led. 

From  Popery  now  riven — 
The  field  she  took — no  b  ood  she  shed — 
The  cause  was  won — she  raised  her  head 
Amid  the  blaze  of  heaven  ! 

Th  '  nations  saw — nor  saw  in  vain — 

Away  the  foe  was  driven ; 
And  Europe  from  the  gloomy  reign 
Of  te  ror  rose,  and  blessed  again 

The  holy  light  of  heaven ! 

Thus  Salem  wept  at  Babel's  stream, 
Where  f  emen  her  had  driven — 
She  wept,  she  sighed,  she  saw  the  beam 
Of  hope  descend — it  looked  a  dream, 
But,  'twas  the  God  of  heaven ! 


/■ 


I 


THE  THREE  PROPHETS. 

BOARDMILLS. 

On  Judiih's  heighta,  his  lofty  numbers  sung 

Isaiah,  prophet  of  the  golden  tongue —  « 

On  eagle  wing,  he  passed  the  solar  road — 

With  eagle  eye,  beheld  the  coming  God!  ' 

Next,  tTeremiah  rose,  in  darker  day,  ( 

When  Judah's  God  had  turned  his  face  away — 
And  Salem's  harp,  now  with  the  tempest  riven, 
.Coined  with  lis  sighs  to  mourn  the  wrath  of  Heaven. 

Last  came  Ezekiel,  in  the  captive  hour. 
Baptized  with  fire — instinct  with  life  and  power — 
Their  sins  reproved,  yet,  seeing  far,  revealed 
The  ago  of  glory,  ;is  tho  i  romLse  sealed. 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POKTRV. 


12» 


Hail  mighty  three !  for  chiefs  ye  be,  among 
The  chiefest  sons  of  Zion's  sacred  song — 
Be  mine  the  task,  though  far  behind  your  flight, 
Fearless  to  follow  to  the  realms  of  light. 

By  day,  bv  night,  your  spirit  rolls  sublime, 
To  me  shall  rival  all  the  books  of  Time — 
And  ever,  through  your  radiant  milky  road 
Of  heavenly  mind,  I'll  rise  to  Zion's  God. 

God  of  the  prophets,  ay  th'  Aim  ghty  same ! 
Inspire  my  heart  to  sing  thy  wond'rous  name — 
And  while  I  live,  to  Thee  alone  belong 
The  praise  and  glory  of  my  votive  song. 


ERIN,  MAVOURNEEHr. 


BY   MISS   TIMS  OF   DUBLIN. 

Fair  land  of  my  birth,  though  away  from  thy  shore. 
My  heart  seems  to  cherish  thee  only  the  more, 
To  love  thee  the  better  brigh'.  gem  of  ihe  sea— 
Oh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acushlamaohree! 

In  joy  or  in  sorrow,  in  weal  or  in  woe, 

Thy  memory  ne'er  doth  my  spirit  forego ; 

But  in  calm  or  in  tempest,  turns  still  true  to  thee — 

Oh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acushla  machree  ! 

When  pleasure's  the  watchword,  and  joy's  sun  is  brightest, 
Thought  retraces  those  days  which  were  gayest  and  lightest ; 
Child  and  girlhood's  fair  mom  passed  through  quickly  in  thee- 
Qh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acushla  machree ! 

Thought  returns  to  my  home,  to  the  place  of  my  birth — 
To  those  whom  my  heart  once  held  dearest  on  earth ; 
And  with  their  loved  forms  it  must  needs  too,  link  thee 
Oh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acushla  machree ! 

I  think  of  the  hills  where  in  childhood  I  bounded — 
I  think  of  the  glen  where  my  young  voice  resounded, 
And  sigh  for  those  glad  days,  I  sigh  too  for  thee — 
Oh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acushla  machree  ! 

'Tis  not  I  can  number  a  great  many  years^ 

'T4s  not  my  lot's  compassed  with  trials  or  fears ; 

But  my  thought's  hope  hath  fled  since  I  parted  from  thee— 

Oh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acushla  ma  hree  ! 

And  I  sigh  for  those  days  when  bright  fancy's  wing. 
Hovering  over  each  object,  robbed  grief  of  its  sting. 
And  hope's  sun  could  so  quickly  cause  all  clouds  to  flee — 
Ob,  Erin,  mavour  eon,  acushla  machree ! 


130 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRT. 

Yea,  many  a  vision  of  greatness  and  fame, 

My  country,  was  mingled  and  linked  with  thy  name; 

Aye,  many  a  dream  was  expended  on  thee — 

Oh,  Erin,  mavoumeen,  acashia  machree  ! 


THE  NURSE'S  SONG. 

The  following  beautiful  lullaby  is  a  literal  translation  from  the  Irish- 

StEEP  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep; 
The  sun  sleepeth  upon  the  green  fields, 
The  moon  sleepeth  upon  the  blue  waves, 

Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep. 

The  morning  sleepeth  upon  a  ted  of  roses, 
The  evening  sleepeth  on  the  tops  of  the  dark  hills ; 
Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep. 

The  winds  sleep  in  the  hollow  of  the  rocks. 
The  stars  sleep  upon  a  pillow  of  clouds ; 
Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep, 

The  mist  sleepeth  on  the  bosom  of  the  valley, 
And  the  bropd  lake  under  the  shade  of  trees ; 
Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep. 

The  flower  sleeps  while  the  night  dew  falls. 
And  the  wild  birds  sleep  upon  the  mountains  ; 
Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep. 

The  burning  tear  sleepeth  upon  the  cheek  of  sorrow  ; 
But  thy  sleep  is  not  the  sleep  of  tears  : 
Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep. 

Sleep  in  quiet,  sleep  in  joy,  my  darling, 
May  thy  sleep  never  be  the  sleep  of  sorrow ; 
Sleep  my  child,  my  darling  child,  my  lovely  child,  sleep. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  ST.  PATRICK'S*  CATHEDRAI/,  DUBMN. 

BT  HRS.  HEUANS. 

"  The  choral  music  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  Dublin,  is  almost  unrivalled  in  its 
combined  powers  of  voice,  organ  and  scientiBc  skill  — The  majestic  haimony  thus  pro- 
duced is  not  a  little  deepened  by  the  character  of  the  church  Itself,  which  though  small, 
yet  with  its  dark  rich  fietwork,  knightly  helmets  and  banners,  and  ol-'.  monumental  effi- 
gies, seems  ail  filled  and  overshadowed  by  the  spirit  of  chivalrous  antiquity.  The  imagi- 
nation never  fails  to  recognise  it  as  a  fitting  scene  for  high  solemnities  of  old  ; — a  place 
to  witness  the  solitarv  vigil  of  arms,  or  to  resound  with  the  funeral  match  at  the 
burial  of  some  warlike  king." 

All  the  choir 
Sang  H-iUelujah,  as  the  sound  of  seas. 

M11.TON. 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELKCTED    POKTRY.  131 

Agaim,  oh  !  send  that  anthem  peal  again 
Thro'  the  arch'd  roof  in  triumph  to  the  sky ! 
Bid  the  old  tombs  ring  proudly  to  the  strain, 
The  banners  thrill  as  if  with  victory  ! 

Such  sounds  the  warrior  awe-strnck  might  have  heard, 
While  arm'd  for  fields  of  chivalrous  renown  ; 
Such  the  h  gh  hearts  of  kings  might  well  have  stirr'd 
While  throbbing  still  beneath  the  lecent  crown. 

Those  notes  once  more  ! — they  bear  my  soul  away, 
They  lend  tie  wings  of  morning  to  its  flight 
No  earthly  pnssion  in  the  exulting  lay, 
Whispers  one  tone  to  win  me  from  that  height. 

All  is  of  heaven! — yet  wherefore  to  mine  eye 
Gush  the  vain  tea  s  unhidden  from  their  source  1 
Ev'n  while  the  waves  of  that  strong  harmony 
Roll  with  my  spirit  on  there  sounding  course. 

Wherefore  must  rapture  its  full  heart  reveal 
Thus  by  the  burst  of  sorrow's  token  shower  ? 
— Oh  !  is  it  not  that  humbly  we  may  feel 
Our  nuture's  limit  m  its  proudest  hour  1 

*  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  inlorm  some  of  our  readers  that  St.  Patrick's  is  a  ProteitJuit 
Church 


-O- 


A'^ROSTrc  ON  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

M  Ar  joy  and  gladness  find  in  thee  a  sure  abiding  home, 
A  nd  everything  th  it  cheers  the  mind  wherever  it  may  roam — 
K  ound  :tll  the  paths  of  active  life  in  constant  changing  time, 
I  n  every  form  of  no*iIe  worth  that  dwells  in  every  clime. 
A  source  of  pure  and  living  joy  with  thee  is  ever  found, — 

L  ife's  brightest  hues  and  sunny  dreams  with  thee  shall  stHI  abound 

0  'er  sorrow's  shade  when  it  appears  and  all  around  is  dark, 
U  nf  uling  forms  of  clearest  light  sh  ill  blot  out  every  mark, — 

1  n  [ileiisuie's  triiin  where  sorrow  flees  and  everything  is  bright 
S  hall  be  thy  rest  while  passes  <<n  life's  dark  and  dreary  night. 
A  s  for  the  joys  of  coming  time  wherever  they  are  cast, 

B  eforc  thee  mny  the  future  be  as  what  has  been  the  past, 
E  vincin!<  through  each  p  issing  hour  that  thou  art  still  the  same, 
I.  ong  inii.v  the  days  of  coming  time  thy  joyousness  proclaim  ! 
S  till  sweetly  lilen  ling  all  the  gentler  graces  of  the  mind 
II  iirmoni'iuslv  together  the  ills  of  life  to  bind, 
A  constant  source  of  happiness  forever  shall  be  thine, 
W  ith  which  all  scenes  of  coming  joy  will  gracefully  combine. 

R.  R.  B. 


132  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRY. 

BliEGY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  JAMES  FREEMAX,  ESQ,- 

An  EHegy  on  the  death  of  Jamks  Freeuax,  £eq.  of  the  city  of  Dublin,  an  intimate 
fri«nd  and  correspondent  of  the  Rev.  Johx  Wbslgy,  who  departed  this  lifo,  the  17th  No- 
TMaber  1771,  in  the  32ad  year  of  his  age.  From  the  last  printed  copy  extant,  published 
in  1772. 

Adieu,  dear  brother,  thou  hast  run  the  race, 

Thy  labors  now  are  croiraed  with  solid  peace ; 
^  Great  consolation  fills  thy  heaven  bom  soul 

Which  will  increase  while  endless  ages  roll 

Though  like  a  tender  plant  or  fading  flower,  i 

Cast  down  and  withered  in  one  fl  eting  hour  ; 

So  felt  thy  mortal  frame  the  stroke  diviD«, 

So  heard  thy  soul  the  voice,  "  Arise  and  «hine  :" 
.  And  sweetly  answered ;  "  0  my  Lord  I  c-ome :" 

;  Thus  died  th  ^  christian,  when  his  work  wa«  done. 

i  "  His  work,"  say  some  "  he  no  good  work  could  do, 

>  Jesus  hath  purchased  all  for  me  and  you. 

The  price  is  paid,  the  ransom's  fully  given 

Only  believe,  believe,  and  your's  is  heaveui" 

It's  true  my  friends,  in  point  of  our  salvatio!^ 
,  CBRiar  hath  done  all,  good  works  are  the  con(£'tioo ; 

Which  we  as  much  believe  from  faith  will  flow, 

As  that  good  fruit  on  a  good  tree  will  grow, 

But  to  return  and  trace  awhile  my  friend, 

How  did  he  every  precious  talent  spend, 

In  serving  his  great  Master  and  his  Lord, 

Who  did  to  him  both  gifts  and  grace  afford, 
;  It  shone  conspicuous  what  in  him  was  wrought 

Witness  his  labors  at  the  Gravel  Walk  ;* 

His  passionate  desire  was  often  seen, 
i  When  calling  home  the  wandering  sons  of  moi\ 

k  His  Bweet  entreaties  mixed  with  fervent  zeal 

Did  o'er  the  sinner's  stubborn  heart  prevail ; 

So  did  the  rock  like  melting  wax  appear, 

When  Jesus  owned  His  favorite  messenger: 
I  He  likewise  filled  the  place  f  conferred  by  maiu 

>  ,:i.  And  labored  much  the  needy  to  sustain,  ' 

Gladdening  the  poor,  afflicted,  and  distrest. 

Comforting  widows  ai  1  the  fatherless  ; 

That  lesson  he  was  i.over  known  to  learn, 

Barely  to  tell  the  poor,  "  Be  filled  and  warmed** 
.  No  :  but  his  open  heart  and  liberal  hand 

'  Were  ever  ready  at  His  Lord's  command 

•  Now  J'endrick  St.,  Dublin.  Meaning  his  pious  and  ardent  I»bor*  i»  a  Methodist 
Praaching  House,  towards  the  erection  of  which  ho  wag  the  priaci)/al  concribator  and 
preached  the  first  sermon  within  its  walla.  As  a  rather  singular  cofncidenie  it  may  be  men- 
tioned, that  after  its  re-erection  some  fifteen  years  since  it  was  re-opened  by  his  son-in-law 
Ihelate  Rev.  William  Stewart,  one  of  the  most  prominent  members  of  the  Irish  Wes- 
ley»n  Church- 

f  Referring  to  when  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  Oiurch  Wardens  of  St.  Luke"» 
Vkriah,  Dublin. 


ORIGINAL   AND    SELECTED    POKTRT-  133 

Thus  he  went  on  his  faith  by  works  to  show, 
Still  conscious  who  the  blessings  did  bestow, 
And  with  a  cheerful  heart  e'en  to  the  end 
Gave  all  the  glory  to  the  sinner's  Friend  : 
So  lived  and  died  the  man  by  God  approved, — 
Let  us  pursue  him  as  he  did  his  Lord. 

0  may  we  all  the  solemn  warning  take  | 

Before  the  dead  are  summoned  to  awake.  ' 

The  cry  will  issue  and  the  trump  will  sound^ —  " 

Sinner,  consider,  where  wilt  thou  be  found  !  ; 

How  stands  thy  case  ?  speak,  conscience  do  thy  part,  ■• 

Give  the  secure  to  feel  thy  keenest  dart ; 

Bring  forth  each  Demas  now  to  open  light. 

Show  them  the  darkness  of  Egyptian  i  ight, 

Which  like  a  massy  weight  doth  clog 

That  soul  which  always  might  rejoice  in  God. 

0  may  all  such  lay  every  weight  aside> 
And  get  an  interest  in  the  Crucified  ; 
But  you  who  do  the  grace  of  God  retain, 

1  know  you  love  the  favorite  Freeman's  name ; 
But  0  beware,  let  not  your  grief  exceed 

The  bounds  of  Christian  love,  for  one  that's  freed 

From  all  the  troubles  of  a  weary  life, 

And  through  Jehovah  conquered  in  the  strife ; 

No  :  rather  let  us  all  with  strength  renewed, 

By  his  example  scale  the  mount  of  God  ; 

His  God  is  our's,  his  grace  is  ever  free, 

Only  fight  on  :  we're  sure  of  victory. 

Time  rolls  apaise,  eternity  draws  near,  ] 

Jesus  on  his  white  throne  shall  soon  appear 

To  crown  each  conqueror  with  immortal  joy, 

Which  through  eternity  shall  never  cloy ; 

There  we  shall  in  eternal  songs  of  praise 

Join  our  dear  Brother  in  his  loftiest  lays ! 

With  love  inspired,  no  jar  shall  there  be  found, 

But  tranquil  pleasures  murmur  all  around. 

But  shall  I  close  my  little  mite  of  love. 

And  seemingly  forget,  or  fondly  rove  j 

To  things  more  distant  ?  no  :  I  must  return  | 

To  her  who  has  the  greatest  cause  to  mourn ;  ; 

Namely  his  other  self ;  my  friend  arise,  j 

Look  up,  behold  he  beckons  from  the  skies ;  : 

He  bids  thee  cast  on  God  thy  every  care. 

Dry  up  thy  tears,  and  meet  thy  partner  there. 

God  will  provide,  his  promises  are  sure. 

Only  remember  to  the  end  end  re  ; 

And  may  the  pledges  of  your  mutual  love  • 

Aspire  to  yon  celestial  joys  above  : 

There  may  we  altogether  meet,  and  sing  . .  ^ 

One  ceaseless  hallelujah  to  our  King. 


134  ORIGINAL    AND    SELKCTED    POKTRY. 

lilXES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  TH*^.  liATE  RICHARD 
BEL.SHAW,  ESCt. 

To  thememory  of  thelate  Richard  Belshaw,  Esq.  of  Magheragall,  Co.  Antrim,  an  Elder 
in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  Ballinderry,  who  departed  this  life  in  the  year  1838.  Written 
by  the  Rev.  Henrt  Likbody,  Presbyterian  Minister,  Ballinderry,  Co.  Antrim. 

And  shall  I  not  remember  thee 

Thou  dear  departed  friend  7 
No  more  on  earth  thy  fo  m  I'll  see 

Sweet  peaceful  hours  to  spend. 

But  still  to  me  thy  memory's  sweet, 

And  in  my  heart  entwined, 
The  glorious  hope  we  yet  shall  meet 

Can  cheer  the  pensive  mind 

I  saw  thee  in  the  trying  hour 
When  death  was  hovering  near 
[;  And  then  I  saw  Religion's  power 

•^  Forbidding  every  fear. 

Thy  only  wish  was  greater  grace 

To  bear  thy  Master's  will  ""      , 

No  murmuring  at  His  rod  had  place  '     i 

'Twas  jjraise  or  prayer  still  i 

t 
And  who  that  stood  by  thy  death  bed  j 

Can  e'er  forget  that  scene,  i 

The  joy,  the  hope  in  Christ  thy  Head 

The  look  of  love  serene. 


Sweet  blessed  all  redeeming  grace, 
How  bright  in  thee  it  shone  / 

A  glory  seemed  to  fill  the  place — 
Thy  Saviour  did  thee  own. 

Farewell,  dear  Saint,  awhile  farewell, 
My  hope  is  that  we'll  meet 

In  endless  bliss  with  Christ  to  dwell 
And  there  each  other  greet. 

0  mav  my  death  be  like  to  thine  ! 

My  latter  end  be  peace. 
Supported,  cheered  by  grace  divine 

Till  all  my  trials  ceaso. 

■J  Then  borne  on  angel's  wings  away 

j  The  happy  soul  shall  flee, 

To  bask  in  beams  of  endless  day, 
And  Christ  forever  see. 


J 


f! 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POETRY.  135^ 

THE  SIGlitriNG  OF  THE  COVENANT  IX  THE  GREY- 
FRIARS'  CHURCHYARD,  EDINBURGH. 

From  the  Lays  of  the  Kirk  and  Covenant  by  Mrs.  Menteath. 

March  I,  1638. 
"  This  was  the  flay  of  the  Lord's  power,  in  which  multitudes  offered  themselves  most 
willinglj,  like  the  dewdrops  of  the  morning — thin  was,  indeed,  the  great  dav  of  Israel 
wherein  the  arm  of  the  Lord  was  revealed — the  day  of  the  Redeemer'*  itfexiptV  r^  cbiafc 
the  princes  of  the  people  assembled  to  swear  their  allegiance  to  the  Kiuft  «i&  )u>ur*.'~»  ■ 
Alexandek  Henderson. 

I'm  old !  I'm  old !  I'm  very  frail !  my  eyes  are  dim  with  age- 
Scarce  can  I  trace  the  words  of  life  upon  this  sacred  page  ; 
Then  out  upon  the  unquiet  heart ! — that  yearns,  and  will  not  rest, 
To  be  where  Scotland  rallies  now  her  truest  and  her  best ! 

I  heard  them  with  the  earliest  dawn !  I  heard  them  gathering  fast — 
A  sound,  as  on  the  mighty  sea,  the  menace  of  the  blast — 
A  mingled  sound  of  thousand  eet,  and  vo  ces  blent  in  one, 
And  on  the  living  spring-tide  swept-rand  I  was  left  alone 

Alone  !  alone !  oh  wearily  the  day  hath  lingered  by  ! 
With  now  and  then  a  far-off  shout,  cleaving  the  distant  sky  : 
Yet  have  I  wrestled  with  my  €k)D — some  hours  as  moments  past; 
!But  age  halts  soon — my  son,  my  son !  it  is  thy  step  at  last ! 

"  Father !  a  solemn  eve  hath  fallen — a  mighty  deed  is  done — 
Pledged  to  his  country  and  his  God — re  eive  and  bless  thy  son  ! 
And  pray,  my  father — ceaseless  pray — that  I  may  never  shame, 
The  oath  of  God,  to  which  this  day  I  have  affixed  my  name  ! 

— "  We  met  within  the  ancient  walls,  where  once  the  Qreyfriars  ruled, 
A  concourse  vast  of  earnest  men,  in  common  danger  schooled ; 
Earth's  titled  ones — God's  ministers — poor — rich — together  driven — 
Christ's  flock  awaiting  'neath  the  storm,  their  Shepherd's  sign  from  heaven  ! 

"  And  solemnly,  oh  solemnly !  went  np  the  breath  of  prayer, 
The  silence,  as  a  shadow,  brooding  o'er  the  thousands  there — 
Only  the  pulse  of  each  strong  heart  amid  the  stillness  heard. 
Through  which  tha  voice  of  Ilenderson  a  nation's  suit  preferred  ! 

"Ay,  father  !  there  was  One,  amid  our  convocation  then. 

Whose  eyes  are  as  a  flame  of  fire,  to  search  the  souls  of  men ; 

Whose  spirit  moving  woadrously,  from  heart  to  heart,  can  bring — 

A  willing  people  to  the  feet  of  their  Almighty  King  !  • 

"  And  when  the  noble  Loudon  spake  of  Scotland's  gospel  prime,  ! 

Her  Covenants  of  other  days — her  glad  espousal  time — 

How  fearless,  through  the  wilderness,  her  God  she  followed  still, 

And  found  a  very  present  help  in  every  time  of  ill— 

"  Till  one  by  one,  her  mighty  men  were  gathered  to  thair  graves. 

And  sons,  degenerate  from  their  sires,  made  Christ's  own  freemen  slaves — 

Discrowning  His  anointed  head  to  gem  an  earthly  brow — 

Making  our  Father's  holy  house  the  ruin  it  is  now  ! — 

"  Oh  I  then  there  was  such  weeping,  through  that  bowed  and  silent  throng. 
Such  self-accusing  bitterness  for  gult  contracted  long. 
Such  binding  of  the  broken  vows  upon  the  soul  once  more — 
That  very  moment  made  us  free — as  we  were  free  of  yore  ! 


136  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED   POETRY. 

"  And  now,  with  tone  distinct  and  clear,  as  one  whose  word  is  power, 
Johnston  of  Warristoa  stood  forth,  (God's  gift  in  danger's  hour,) 
A  mighty  parchment  in  his  hand,  from  which  he  read — the  while 
A  sudden  sunbuist  filled  the  place  with  heaven's  approving  smile ! 
"He  ended — and  there  was  a  pause — a  pause  of  holy  fear — 
^  Who,  to  tost  the  oath  of  God,  shall  first  adventure  near — 

It  was  not  doubt,  but  solemn  awe,  and  self-distrusting  shame, 

And  that  each  deemed  his  brother  bore  a  less  unworthy  name  ! 
i 
,  "  Till  the  good  E  irl  of  Sutherland — the  brave  old  E  irl  and  true, 

'  One  moment  bowed  his  reverent  head,  then  toward  the  table  drew  ; 

'  So  deal  my  God  with  me,  and  mine,  till  latest  ages  bo, 

As  we  prove  steadfast  in  this  bond,  I  bind  on  them  and  me  !' 

"  Then  followed  Rothes  quicltly  on — Cassilis,  and  ll;i.y  and  Home ; 
Montrose,  as  if  almost  he  grudged  to  lose  the  foremost  room — 
Loudon,  his  country's  beacon-light  amid  her  mirkiest  hour, 
With  many  a  noble  name  beside — a  kingdom's  hope  and  flower  ! 
"  Now  Henderson,  the  called  of  God — Dickson,  the  owned  of  heaven, 
(Surely  a  blessing  waits  the  land  to  which  such  guides  are  given !) 
Guthrie — as  though  upon  the  cast  his  life  he  longed  to  stake. 
And  Rutherford,  with  look  inspired — as  if  his  master  spake ! 

"  Bless  God,  my  father,  who  hath  lent  the  land  we  love  so  well, 
Sons  valiant  for  the  truth  on  earth,  more  than  my  tongue  can  tell — 
To  name  but  those  already  proved  by  many  a  searching  test. 
Would  wile  us  from  the  hour  of  prayer,  and  steal  thy  midnight  rest ! 

"Yet  must  thou  hear — when  all  had  signed  within  the  house  of  God, 
How  still  a  multitude  without,  each  on  the  other  t  od — 
Pressing  with  fervent  footsteps  on,  and  many  an  earnest  prayer, 
That  they  in  Scotland's  Covenant  might  register  their  share  ! 
"  Oh!  Arthur's  Seat  gave  back  the  shout  of  t  at  assembled  crowd, 
As  one  bare  forth  the  mighty  bond — and  many  wept  aloud — 
They  spread  it  on  a  tombstone  head — (a  martyr  slept  beneath) — 
And  some  subscribed  it  with  their  blood,  and  added  '  Until  death  !' 

"  Ay  !    young  and  old  were  moved  alike — with  prayers,  and  groans  and  tears, 

Surely  the  fruit  of  such  a  day  is  yet  for  many  years  ! 

And,  owned  in  heaven,  the  strong  appeal  of  each  uplifted  hand, 

As  evening's  sun  went  down  upon  the  covenanted  land  !" 

— That  old  man  rose  up  in  his  place — he  bared  his  locks  of  gray  ; 
"  Lord,  let  thy  servant  now  dopvrt,  f  >r  I  have  seen  this  day — 
Upon  my  head  in  early  youth,  John  Knox's  hand  hath  lain, 
And  I  have  seen  his  buried  work  unsepulchred  again  ! 

"Speed  on  thou  covenanted  cause  !  Gid's  blessing  upon  thee  ! 
Baptized  in  Scotland's  dearest  blood — albeit  thou  needs  must  be— 
Christ  came  not  to  send  peace  on  earth — only  may  that  red  rain, 
Still  fructify  thy  living  seed  till  He  return  again  ! 

"  My  country !  oh  my  country  !  yea  for  thee  the  light  is  sown,* 

Only  be  steadfast  in  thy  trust let  no  man  take  thy  crown  ! 

Thine  be  the  standard-bearer's  place !  the  post  of  suffering  high- 
Goo's  blessing  on  the  Covenant — I'll  sign  it  ere  I  die  !" 
•  Vs.  xovil.  11. 


ORIGINAL   AND    SELECTED   POETRY.  137 

PEDEW  AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  CAMERON. 

From  the  Lays  of  the  Kirk  and  Covenant  by  Mrs.  Menteath. 

A  SOUND  of  conflict  in  the  moss !  but  that  hath  passed  away, 
And  through  a  stormy  noon  and  eve  the  dead  unburied  lay ; 
But  when  the  sun  a  second  time  his  fitful  splendors  gave, 
One  slant  ray  rested,  like  a  hope,  on  Cameroa's  new-made  grave ! 

There  had  been  watchers  in  the  night !  strange  watchers  gaunt  and  grim, 
And  wearily  with  faint  lean  hands,  they  toiled  a  grave  for  him^ 
But  ere  they  laid  the  headless  limbs  unto  their  mangled  rest, 
As  orphaned  children  sat  they  down,  and  wept  upon  his  breast ! 

0  !  dreary,  dreary,  was  the  lot  of  Scotland's  true  ones  then — 
A  famine-stricken  remnant,  wearing  scarce  the  g^ise  of  men  ; 
They  burrowed,  few  and  lonely,  'mid  the  chill,  dank  mountain  caves, 
For  those  ^ho  once  had  sheltered  them  were  in  their  martyr  graves! 

A  sword  had  rested  on  the  land — it  did  not  pass  away — 
Long  had  they  watched  and  waited,  but  there  dawned  no  brighter  day  j 
And  many  had  gone  back  from  them,  who  owned  tne  truth  of  old. 
Because  of  much  iniquity  their  love  was  waxen  cold  ! 

There  came  a  worn  and  weary  man  to  Cameron's  place  of  rest, 
He  cast  him  down  upon  the  sod — he  smote  upon  his  breast — 
He  wept  as  only  strong  men  weep,  when  weep  tney  must,  or  di»— 
And.  "  Oh !  to  be  wi'  thee,  Ritchie !"  was  still  his  bitter  cry ! 

"  My  brother !  0  my  brother !  thou  hast  passed  before  the  time. 

And  thy  blood  it  cries  for  vengeance,  from  this  purple  land  of  crime ; 

Who  now  shall  break  the  bread  of  life  unto  the  faithful  band — 

Who, now  upraise  the  standard  that  is  shattered  in  thine  hand  ! 

'•  Alas !  alas !  for  Scotland  !  the  ones  beloved  of  heaven — 

The  crown  is  fallen  from  her  head — her  holy  garments  riven — 

The  ashes  of  her  Covenant  are  scattered  far  and  near, 

And  the  voice  speaks  loud  in  judgment — which  in  love  she  would  not  hMr  I 

"  Alas !  alas !  for  Scotia  d !  for  her  mighty  ones  are  gone. 
Thou,  brother — thou  art  taken — I  am  left  almost  alone ; 
And  my  heart  is  faint  within  me,  and  my  strength  is  dried  and  lost, 
A  feeble  and  an  aged  man — alone  against  a  host ! 

"  0  pleasant  was  it,  Ritchie,  when  we  two  could  counsel  take, 

And  strengthen  one  another  to  be  valiant  for  His  sake 

Now  seems  it  as  the  sap  were  dried,  from  the  old  blasted  tree. 

And  the  homeless — and  the  friendless — would  fain  lie  down  with   thee  !** 

It  was  an  hour  of  weakness — as  the  old  man  bowed  his  head, 
And  a  bitt  r  anguish  rent  him,  as  he  communed  with  the  dead ; 
It  was  an  hour  of  conflict — and  he  groaned  beneath  the  rod — 
But  the  burthen  rolled  from  off  him  as  he  communed  with  his  OoD  I 

"  My  Father !  0  my  Father !  shall  I  pray  the  TIshbite's  prayer, 
And  weary  in  the  wilderness,  while  Thou  wouldst  keep  me  there! 
And  shall  I  fear  the  coward  fear,  of  standing  all  alone. 
To  testify  for  Zion's  King,  and  the  glory  of  His  throne ! 


138  ORIGINAL    AND    RELRCTED    POETRY. 

"  0  Jksus  !  blessed  Jesus  !   I  am  poor,  and  frail,  and  weak, 
Let  me  not  utter  of  mine  own — for  idle  works  I  speak — 
But  give  me  grace  to  wrestle  now,  and  prompt  my  faltering  tongue, 
And  breathe  Thy  name  into  mj  soul,  and  so  I  shall  be  strong ! 

— "  I  bless  Thee  for  the  quiet  rest  thy  servant  taketh  now — 
I  bless  Thee  for  his  blessedness,  and  for  his  crowned  brow — 
For  every  step  he  trod,  in  faithful  following  Thee, 
And  for  the  good  fight  foughten  well — and  closed  right  valiantly ! 

"  I  bless  Thee  for  the  hidden  ones,  who  yet  uphold  Thy  name. 
Who  yet  for  Zion's  King  and  Crown  shall  dare  the  death  of  shame — 
I  bless  Thee  for  the  light  that  dawns  even  now  upon  my  soul, 
And  brightens  all  the  narrow  way  with  glory  from  the  goal  !* 

"  The  hour  and  power  of  darkness — it  is  fleeting  fast  away — 
Light  shall  arise  on  Scotland — a  glorious  gospel  day — 
Woe  !   woe !  to  the  opposers,  they  shall  shrivel  in  His  hand — 
Thy  King  shall  yet  appear  for  thee,  thou  covenanted  land ! 

"  I  see  a  time  of  respite, — but  the  people  will    ot  bow — 
I  see  a  time  of  judgment — even  a  darker  time  than  now- 
Then  Lord  uphold  Thy  faith  ul  ones — as  now  Thou  dost  uphold — 
And  feed  them,  as  Thou  still  hast  fed,  Thy  chosen  flock  of  old ! 

"  The  glory!  0  the  glory  !  it  is  bursting  on  my  sight, 

Lord!  thy  poor  vessel  is  too  frail  for  all  this  blinding  light ! 

Now  let  Thy  good  word  be  fulfilled,  and  let  Thy  kingdom  come, 

And,  Lord,  even  in  Thine  own  best  time,  take  thy  poor  servant  home !" 

Upon  the  wild  and  lone  Airsmoss,  down  sank  the  twilight  grey, 
In  storm  and  cloud  the  evening  closed  upon  that  cheerless  day ; 
But  Peden  went  his  way  refreshed,  for  peace  and  joy  were  given — 
And  Cameron's  grave  had  proved  to  him  the  very  gate  of  heaven ! 

*  Peden  was  believed  by  many  to  possess  the  gift  of  prophecy. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  L.ADY. 

[From  the  N.  Y.  True  American,  Nov.  25  1854.1 

lines  written  on  the  untimely  death  of  Miss  J ,  of  Dublin,  who  perifiha4  on 

board  the  ill-fated  United  States  Mail  Steamer  Arctic,  which  sank  within  four  hours  aft^r 
being  ran  into  (while  going  at  the  rate  of  13  knots  an  hour,  throus;h  a  deniie  fog  without 
giving  any  alurm  signals)  by  the  French  screw  propeller  Vrsla,  o(t  Oape  Race,  on  the  27th 
of  September,  1854,  during  the  passage  from  Liverpool  to  New  York. 

Leaves  hikve  their  time  to  fall, 
And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  North-wind's  breath, 

And  stars  to  set — but  all, 
Thou  hast  all  seasons  for  thine  own,  Oh,  Death  ! 

Mna.  ELeuAKS. 

She  sleepeth  now  on  the  ocean's  breast, 

By  the  dark  Atlantic's  wave, 
^Vhere  lies  the  pride  of  many  a  heart, 

Entombed  in  a  water ,  grave. 


ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED    POKTRV.  139 

No  fond  memorial  marks  the  place, 

To  tell  where  her  form  was  laid, — 
No  friendly  hearts  by  her  grave  shall  stand. 

To  show  their  affection  paid. 

Her  winding  sheet  was  the  ocean-spray — 

Her  tomb  was  the  ocean  deep — 
O'er  her  resting  place  the  ocean  waves, 

Her  requiem  ever  shall  keep. 

Methinks  I  look  on  the  quarter  deck, 

And  see  its  full  freight  of  life, 
So  soon  to  fall  by  the  fatal  shock, 

In  the  depth  of  ocean  strife. 

Her  form  was  seen  in  that  hopeless  throng. 

There  gathered  in  mute  despair, 
While  the  march  of  death  came  steadily  on, 

And  the  grave  was  opening  there. 

When  the  vessel  »  ent  finally  o'er, 

There  arose  one  piercing  cry. 
But  the  dull  monotonous  sea  rollM  on, 

Where  death  was  hovering  nigh. 

In  the  watery  depths  there  resteth  now 

The  hopes  of  many  a  year, 
Which  live  no  more  in  the  hearts  of  those, 

There  laid  on  an  ocean  bier. 

How  sad  was  the  fate  for  one  so  young, 

In  the  midst  of  Life's  gay  mom. 
While  happiest  dreams  of  future  joy. 

The  mind  did  ever  adorn. 

How  little  we  know  the  fate  of  an  hoar, 

That  in  the  future  may  loom, 
To  scatter  our  fondest  hopes  on  earth, 

In  clouds  of  heaviest  gloom 

B.  B.  B. 


FRAGMEIVTS. 

FBIENDSHIP. 

Pebhaps  we  ne'er  shall  meet  again 
On  this  side  of  Jordan's  shore, 

But  may  we  live  so  as  to  meet 
Where  troubles  are  no  more. 

When  far  across  the  ocean  wide 

In  other  lands  I  dwell. 
The  distance  ne'er  shull  rend  the  tie, 

Or  break  the  magic  spell. 


140  ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTBD    POETRY. 

But  memory  etill  shall  fond  recall 

Where'er  my  lot  be  cast, 
The  kindness  thou  has  shown  to  me 

In  days  that  are  gone  past. 

R.  R.   B. 


THE   MOSS  ROSE. 

Sweet  rose  !  thy  grateful  odors  rise 
In  praise  of  Him  above, 
Who  placed  thee  here  to  sympathise 
With  beauty  and  with  love. 

Thy  form  with  fragrance  fills  the  air 
With  gentle  sweetness  round, 

Dispelling  thoughts  of  toil  and  care, 
Where  thou  art  ever  found. 

R.  R.  B 


LIBERTY. 

Oh  !  Liberty !  thrice  sweet  and  glorious  name, 
Thy  praise  is  heard  in  every  land  the  same. 
Beneath  the  shade  of  dark  Oppression's  throne, 
And  in  the  dying  Exile's  parting  groan, 
Wherever  dwells  a  heart  of  noble  worth. 
There  thou  art  worshipped. 

R.  R.  B. 


THE  SONGS  OF  OUR  FATHERS. 

BY   MRS.    HEUANS. 


-"Sirg  aloud 


Old  songs  the  precious  masic  of  the  heart." — ^Wordsworth 

Sing  them  upon  the  sunny  hills. 

When  days  are  long  and  bright, 
And  the  blue  gleam  of  shining  rills 

Is  loveliest  to  the  sight ! 
Sing  them  along  the  misty  moor, 

Where  ancient  hnnters  roved, 
And  swell  them  through  the  torrent's  roar, 

The  songs  our  fathers  loved  ! 

The  songs  their  souls  rejoiced  to  hear 

When  harps  were  in  the  hall. 
And  each  proud  note  made  lance  and  spear 

Thrill  on  the  bannered  wall  : 
The  songs  that  through  our  valleys  green 

Sent  on  from  age  to  age, 
Like  his  own  river's  voice  have  been 

The  peasant's  heritage. 


OBIOINAL   AND    SELECTED    POETRY.  141 

The  reaper  sings  them  wh  n  the  vale 

Is  filled  with  plumy  sheaves ; 
The  woodman  by  the  starlight  pale 

Cheered  homeward  through  the  leaves  t 
And  unto  them  the  glancing  oars 

A  joyous  measure  keep ; 
Where  the  dark  rocks  crest  our  shore, 

Dash  back  the  foaming  deep. 

So  let  it  be  !  a  light  they  shed  <« 

On  each  old  fount  and  grove, 
A  memory  of  the  gentle  dead, 

A  lingering  spell  of  love. 
Murmuring  the  names  of  mighty  men 

Thy  bid  our  streams  roll  on, 
And  link  high  thoughts  to  every  glen, 

Where  valiant  deeds  were  done. 

Teach  them  your  children  round  the  hooso ; 

When  evening  fires  bum  clear, 
And  in  the  fields  of  harvest  mirth, 

And  on  the  hills  of  deer : 
So  shall  each  unforgotten  word, 

When  far  those  loved  ones  roam, 
Call  back  the  hearts  which  oft  it  stirred, 

To  childhood's  holy  home. 

The  green  woods  of  their  native  land  ;^ 

Shall  whisper  in  the  strain, 
The  voices  of  their  household  band 

Shall  breathe  their  names  again'; 
The  heathery  heights  in  vision  rise,  ^  i 

Where,  like  the  stag ;  they  roved— 
Sing  to  your  sons  those  melodies  ;  » 

The  songs  your  fathers  loved  I 


l'^  LATS   OP  THB    ULSTER    MINSTRELST4 


LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELSY. 

Piously  transmit  them  to  posterity. — CLARKHDOtr.  '^ 

Their  songs  shall  be  heard  in  other  timea  when  the  kingd  of  Temora  have  failed.— OssiAir 
FMUiliAr  la  their  ears  as  household  words.— Shak8PKRI. 


THE  SHUTTING  OF  THE  GATES  OF  DERRY. 

BEY.  J.   QRAHAU. 

TowE— "  Auld  Lang  Syn«." 

Full  many  a  long  wild  winter's  night, 

And  sultry  summer's  day, 
Are  past  and  gone  since  James  took  flight, 

From  Derry  walls  away  ; 
Cold  are  the  hands  that  closed  that  gate 

Against  the  wily  foe  ; 
But  here,  to  time's  remotest  date, 
Their  spirit  still  shall  glow, 

So  here's  a  health  to  all  good  men, 

Now  fearless  friends  are  fe  v ; 
But  when  we  close  our  gates  again. 
We'll  then  be  all  tiue  blue 

Lord  Antrim's  men  came  dowji  yon  glen, 

With  drums  and  trumpet^s  gay  ; 
Our  'prentice  boys  just  heard  the  noise, 

And  then  prepared  for  play  : 
While  some  opposed,  the  gates  they  closed, 

And  joining  hand  in  hand, 

Before  the  wall  resolved  to  fall. 

Or  fur  their  freedom  stand. 

When  honor  calls  to  Derry  walls. 

The  noble  and  the  brave. 

Oh  !  he  that  in  the  battle  falls 

Must  find  a  hero's  grave. 

Then  came  the  hot  and  doubtfutfray, 

With  many  a  mortal  wound ; 
While  thousands  in  wild  war's  array 

Stood  marshalled  all  around. 


LAYS   OF   THE    ULSTER    MIN8TRKL87.  143 


Each  hill  and  plain  was  strewn  with  slaia, 

The  Foyle  ran  red  with  blood  ; 
But  all  was  vain  the  town  to  gain, 
Here  William's  standard  stood. 
,  Benowned  are  those  who  face  their  foes, 

i  As  men  and  heroes  should ; 

j  But  let  the  sipve  steal  to  his  gravi^ 

;  Who  fears  to  shed  his  blood. 

The  matchless  deeds  of  those  who  here 

Defied  the  t)  rant's  frown, 
On  history's  br  ght  rolls  appear 

Emblazoned  in  renown : 
Here  deathless  Walker's  faithful  word 

Sent  hosts  against  the  foe  ; 
And  gallant  Murray's  bloody  sword, 
The  Gallic  Chief  laid  low. 

We  honor  those  heroic  dead, 

Their  glorious  memory ; 
May  we,  who  stand  here  in  their  8t0ild| 
As  wise  ana  valiant  be  ! 

Oh !  sure  a  heart  of  stone  would  mclt^ 

The  scenes  once  here  to  soe ; 
And  witness  all  our  fathers  felt, 

To  make  their  country  free. 
They  saw  the  lovely  matron's  cheek, 

With  want  and  terror  pale  ; 
They  heard  the  child's  expiring  shriek, 
Float  on  the  pas^sing  gale  ! 

\  et  here  they  stood,  in  field  and  bloodf 

As  battle  raged  around  ; 
Kesolved  to  die,  till  victory. 
Their  purple  standard  crowned. 

The  sacred  rights  these  heroes  gained 

In  many  a  hard-fought  day. 
Shall  they  by  us  be  still  maintained, 

Or  bivsely  cast  away  1 
Shall  rebels  vile  rule  o'er  our  isle, 

And  call  it  all  their  own  1 
Oh,  surely  no!  the  faithless  foe, 
:  Must  bend  before  the  throne.  » 

I  Then  here's  a  health  to  all  good  men. 

To  all  good  me    and  true  ; 
And  when  we  closie  our  gates  again, 
We'll  then  be  all  true  blue. 


144  LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELST. 

THE  REIilEF  OF  DERRY. 

BBV,    JOHN  GRAHAK. 

Tune — "  My  ain  kind  dearie,  0." 

The  gloomy  hour  of  trial's  o'er, 

No  longer  cannons  rattle,  0  ; 
The  tyrant's  flag  is  seen  no  more, 

And  James  has  lost  the  battle,  0. 
And  here  we  are,  renowned  and  free, 

By  maiden  walls  surrounded,  0  ; 
While  all  the  knaves  who'd  make  us  slaves, 

Are  bafSed  and  confounded,  0. 

The  Dartmouth  spreads  her  snow-white  sail| 

Her  purple  pendant  flying,  0, 
While  we  the  gallant  Browning  hail, 

Who  saved  us  all  from  dying,  0. 
Like  Noah's  dove,  sent  from  above, 

While  foes  would  starve  and  grieve  us  0, 
Through  floods  and  flame,  an  angel  came, 

To  comfort  and  relieve  us,  0. 

Oh  !  when  the  vessel  struck  the  boom, 

And  pitched,  and  reeled,  and  stranded,  0. 
With  shouts  the  foe  denounced  our  doom. 

And  open  gates  demanded,  0  ; 
And  shrill  and  high  arose  the  cry. 

Of  anguish,  grief  and  pity,  0  : 
While,  black  with  care,  and  deep  despair, 

We  mourned  our  falling  city,  0. 

But,  Heaven  her  guide,  with  one  b  oadside 

The  laden  bark  rebounded,  0 ; 
A  favoring  gale  soon  filled  the  sail, 

While  hills  and  vales  resounded  0. 
The  joy-bells  ring,  "  Long  live  our  king," 

Adieu  to  grief  and  sadness  0  ; 
To  heaven  we  raise  the  voice  of  praise, 

In  heartfelt  joy  and  gladness,  0. 


-0- 


THE  MAIDEN  CITY. 

BY  CHARLOTTE  ELIZABETH. 

Tune—"  Le  Petit  Tambour." 

Where  Foyle  his  swelling  waters 
EoUs  northward  to  the  main, 

Here,  queen  of  Erin's  daughters. 
Fair  Derry  fi.xed  her  reign ; 


liAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSt.  145 

A  holy  temple  crowned  her 

And  commerce  graced  her  street, 
A  rampart  wall  was  round  her, 

The  river  at  her  feet. 
And  here  she  sat  alone,  boys, 

And,  looking  from  the  hill,  / 

Vowed  the  maiden  on  her  throne,  boyi,  • 

Would  be  a  maiden  still.  f 

1 

t 

From  Antrim  crossug  over,  t 

In  famous  eighty  eight,  ' 

A  plumed  and  belted  lover* 

Came  to  the  Ferry  gate ; 
She  summoned  to  defend  her 

Our  sires — a  beardless  race — 
They  shouted  "  No  surrender  "* 

And  slammed  it  in  his  face. 
Then,  in  a  quiet  tone,  boys, 

They  told  him  'twas  their  will. 
That  the  maiden  on  her  throne,  boys, 

Should  be  a  maiden  still. 

Next,  crushing  all  before  him, 

A  kingly  wooerf  came, 
(The  royal  banner  o'er  him, 

Blushed  crimson  deep  for  shame:) 
He  showed  the  pope's  commission, 

Nor  dreamed  to  be  refused. 
She  pitied  his  condition. 

But  begged  to  stand  excused, 
In  short,  the  fact  is  known,  boys,  \^ 

She  chased  him  from  the  hill, 
For  the  maiden  on  her  throne,  boy3, 

Would  be  a  maiden  still. 

On  our  brave  sires  descending, 

'Twas  then  the  tempest  broke. 
Their  peaceful  dwellings  rending 

'Mid  blood,  and  flame,  and  smoke.  > 

That  hallowed  grave-yard  yonder,  f 

Swells  with  the  slaughtered  dead.  1 

Oh,  brothers,,  pause  and  ponder,  ; 

It  was  for  us  they  bled  !  I 

And  while  their  gift  we  own,  boys,  * 

The  fane  that  tops  our  hill. 
Oh !  the  maiden  on  her  throne,  boys, 

Shall  be  a  maiden  still. 

Nor  wily  tongue  shall  move  us, 
Nor  tyrant  arm  affright,  -'i 

•  Lord  Antrim.  t  King  James* 


140  LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSY. 

We'll  look  to  One  above  us, 

Who  ne'er  forsook  the  right : 
Who  will  may  crouch  and  tender 

The  birthright  of  the  free, 
But,  brothers,  "  No  Surrender,' 

No  compromise  for  me  ! 
We  want  no  barrier  stone,  boye, 

No  gates  to  guard  the  hill, 
Yet  the  maiden  on  her  throne,  boys. 

Shall  be  a  maiden  still. 


THE  BATTIiE  OF  THI^  BOYNE.*        A.  D.   1690 

BY   COLONEL  BLACKER. 

It  Mras  upon  a  summer's  morn,  unclouded  rose  the  sun. 
And  lighty  o'er  the  waving  com  their  way  the  breezes  won  ; 
Sparkling  beneath  that  orient  beam,  'mid  banks  of  verdure  gay, 
Its  eastward  course  a  silver  stream  held  smilingly  away. 

A  kingly  host  upon  its  side  a  monarch  camped  around, 
Its  southern  upland  far  and  wide  their  white  pavilions  crowned, 
':  Not  long  that  sky  unclouded  showed,  nor  long  beneath  the  ray, 

That  gentle  stream  in  silver  flowed,  to  meet  the  new-born  day. 

Through  yonder  fairy  haunted  glen,-f  from  out  that  dark  ravine. 
Is  heard  the  tread  of  marching  men,  the  gleam  of  arms  is  seen  ; 
And  plashing  forth  in  bright  array  along  yon  verdant  banks. 
All  eager  for  the  coming  fray,  are  ranged  the  martial  ranks. 

Peals  the  loud  gun,  its  thunders  boom  the  echoing  vales  along. 
While  curtained  in  its  sulphurous  gloom  moves  on  the  gallant  throng ; 
And  foot  and  horse  in  mingled  mass,  regardless  all  of  life. 
With  furious  ardor  onward  pass  to  join  the  deadly  strife. 

*  This  river  has  been  hallowed  by  events  the  most  interesting?  in  our  country's  annals. 
So  memorable  in  ancient  history,  and  so  rich  in  monuments  ol  the  past  is  it,  that  we  fear 
not  to  assert  that  the  history  of  Ireland  may  be  written  on  its  banks.  *  •  *  •  ♦ 
Scarcely  a  ford  upon  this  river,  but  was  disputed  in  days  gone  by — every  pass  was  a 
Thermopylae  ;  and  scarcely  a  knoll,  or  mound,  or  rock,  or  bank,  but  still  retains  its  le- 
gend. *  *  *  *  The  plains  of  Meidhe,  and  the  flowery  fields  of  Breghia,  through 
which  the  Boyne  flows,  appear  to  have  been  the  first  cultivated  in  Ireland  ;  and  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  one  of  the  earliest  waves  of  population  pasi^ed  up  the  stream  of 
this  great  river,  settled  upon  its  banks,  and  left  their  bones  in  the  numerous  barrows  and 
tumuli  still  remaining  upon  its  shores.  Beyond  all  doubt,  the  earliest  authentic  kings 
of  Krin  reigned  upon  its  banks  where  also  the  earliest  laws  were  framed,  the  earliest 
poems  sung,  and  the  most  profouMd  druidical  mysteries  enacted.  Soldiers  and  sages, 
bards  and  Brehons,  have  commemorated  many  of  its  localities  ;  the  romance  of  Irish  his- 
tory is  laid  amidst  the  scenery  of  this  river,  and  much  of  the  imagery  of  our  earliest  poetg 
was  drawn  from  this  fertile  source.  Patri  k  first  landed  at  the  lio^ne's  mouth,  and  raii^ed 
the  beacon  of  the  cioss  at  Slane,  his  first  sermons  were  preached,  and  his  first  conversions 
took  place, 

Where  in  .lelighffiil  streams, 
The  Boyue,  the  darling  of  the  ocean,  flows. 
Foreign  invaders,  the  Dane  and  the  Norseman,  first  enteied  this  king<^om  on  its  waters. 
The  earliest  seats  of  learning,  and  the  most  renowned  schools  of  Christian  philosophy 
which  our  annalists  record,  had  their  seats  by  its  margin  ;  parliaments  and  councils  were 
l<eld  in  its  castles  ;  and  king'lfini=-..  ii.  >.;il".cs  fought  hy  hings,  rore  lost  and  won  upon  its 
banks. — Duii'iin  Vnivrsiiy  .V..  iuzinr. 

tKing  William's  glen  near  Townley-hall. 


LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSY.  147 

Nor  strange  that  with  such  ardent  flame  each  glowing  heart  beats  high, 
Their  battle  word  was  William's  name,  and  "  Death  or  Liberty :" 
Then,  Oldbridge,  then  thy  peaceful  bowers  with  sounds  unwonted  rang, 
And  Tredagb,  mid  thy  distant  towers,  was  heard  the  mighty  clang. 

The  silver  stream  is  crimsoned  wide,  and  clogged  with  many  a  corse, 
As  floating  down  its  gentle  tide,  come  mingled  man  and  horse  ; 
Now  fiercer  grows  the  battle's  rage,  the  guarded  stream  is  crossed, 
And  furious,  hand  to  hand  engage  each  bold  contending  host. 

He  falls,  the  veteran  hero  falls,*  renowned  along  the  Rhine, 
And  he,t  whose  name,  while  Berry's  walls  endure,  shall  brightly  shine  ; 
Oh !  would  to  Heaven  that  churchman  bold,  his  arms  with  triumph  blessed, 
The  soldier  spirit  had  controlled  that  fired  his  pious  breast. 

And  he,  the  chief  of  yonder  brave  and  persecuted  band. 
Who  foremost  rushed  amid  the  waves,  and  gained  the  hostile  strand  : 
He  bleeds,  brave  Caillemote,  J  he  bleeds,  'tis  closed,  his  bright  career, 
Yet  still  that  band  to  glorious  deeds  his  dying  accents  cheer, 

And  now  that  well  contested  strand  successive  columns  gain. 
While  backward  James's  yielding  band  are  borne  across  the  plain ; 
In  vain  the  sword  green  Erin  draws,  and  life  away  doth  fling, 
Oh  !  worthy  of  a  better  cause  and  of  a  bolder  king. 

In  vaitt  thy  bearing  bold  is  shown  upon  that  bloodstained  ground ; 
Thy  towering  hopes  are  overthrown,  thy  choicest  fall  around  ; 
Nor,  shamed,  abandon  thou  the  fray,  nor  blush,  though  conquered  there^ 
A  yyj\\\:v  .ly  'ii  .-^t  thee  fights  to-day,  no  mortal  arm  may  dare. 

Nay,  look  not  to  that  distant  height  in  hope  of  coming  aid, 
The  dastard  thence  has  ta'en  his  flight,  and  left  thee  all  betrayed  ; 
Hurrah !  hurrah  !  the  victor  shout  is  heard  on  high  Donore ; 
Down  Platten's  vale,  in  hurried  rout,  thy  sh  i  ttered  masses  pour. 

But  many  a  gallant  spirit  there  retreats  across  the  plain. 
Who,  change  but  kings,  would  gladly  dare  that  battle  field  again;} 
Enough!  enough!  the  victor  cries  ;  your  fierce  pursuit  forbear, 
Let  grateful  prayer  to  Heaven  arise,  and  vanquished  freemen  spare. 

Hurrah !  hurrah  !  for  liberty,  for  her  the  sword  we  drew, 
And  dared  the  battle,  while  on  high  our  Orange  banners  flew ; 
Woe  worth  the  hour,  woe  worth  the  state,  when  men  shall  cease  to  Join 
With  grateful  hearts  to  celebrate  the  glories  of  the  Boyne. 


*  Duke  Schomberg. 
t  Walker,  the  defender  of  Derry. 

j  The  commander  of  a  regiment  of  French  Protestants. 
\  This  alludes  to  the  expression  attributed  to  Sarsfield;  "  only  change 
kings,  and  we'll  fight  the  battle  over  again." 


li©  LAVS    OF    THE    ULSTTilR    MINSTRELST. 

THE  DEATH  OF  SCHOMBERG.        A.  D.  1690. 

BY  DIOBY    PILOT   STARKEY. 

J"yrederick  Schonberg,  or  Pchomberg,  first  developed  his  warlike  talents  under 
tlM tomma  d  of  Henry  and  William  11,  of  Orange;  afterwards  obtained  several 
Ticicries  over  the  Spaniards;  reinstated  on  the  thmne  the  house  of  Braganza  ;  de- 
feated in  England  the  last  hopes  of  the  Stuarts ;  and  finally  died  at  the  advanced 
ajgB«f  eighty-two,  at  the  battle  of  the  Boyne,  in  1690."] 

TwAS  on  the  day  when  kings  did  fight  beside  the  Boyne's  dark  water, 
Aad  thunder  roared  from  every  height,  and  earth  was  red  with  slaughter ; 
That  morn  an  aged  chieftain  stood  apart  from  mustering  bands, 
And,  from  a  height  that  crowned  the  flood,  surveyed  broad  Erin's  lands. 

Sis  bard  upon  his  sword-hilt  loaned,  his  war-horse  stood  beside, 
And  anxiously  his  eyes  were  bent  across  the  rolling  tide  ; 
Ho  thought  of  what  a  changeful  fate  had  borne  him  from  the  land 
"Where  frowned  his  fathei's  castle-gate,*  high  o'er  the  Rhenish  strand, 

And  placed  before  his  opening  view,  a  re.alm  where  strangers  bled, 
Where  he,  a  leader,  scarcely  knew  the  tongue  of  those  he  led  ; 
M&  fooked  upon  his  chequered  life,  from  boyhoods' earliest  time, 
Xlarough  scenes  of  tumult  and  of  strife,  endured  in  every  clime — 

To  where  the  snows  of  eighty  years  usurped  the  raven's  stand, 
And  still  the  din  was  in  his  ears,  the  broad-sword  in  his  hand . 
H©  turned  him  to  futurity  beyond  the  battle  plain, 
Hc^  then  a  shadow  from  on  high,  hung  o'er  the  heaps  of  slain. 

Andf  through  the  darkness  of  the  cloud,  the  chief's  prophetic  glance 
Sebeld  with  winding  sheet  and  shroud,  his  fatal  hour  advance ; 
IBi^  quailed  not,  as  he  felt  him  near  the  inevitable  stroke, 
3Ht,  dashing  off  one  rising  tear,  'twas  thus  the  old  man  spoke  : 

"*  Sod  of  my  fathers  !  death  is  nigh,  my  soul  is  not  deceived, 
My  hour  is  come,  and  I  would  die,  the  conqueror  I  have  lived : 
JW  Thee,  for  Freedom,  have  I  stood — for  both  I  fall  to  day, 
3iT0  me  but  victory  for  my  blood,  the  price  I  gladly  pay, 

"Forbid  the  future  to  restore  a  Stuart's  despot  gloom, 
Ctr  that,  by  freemen  dreaded  more,  the  tyranny  of  Rome  ! 
JFpxa  either  curse,  let  Erin  freed,  as  prosperous  ages  run. 
Acknowledge  what  a  glorious  deed  upon  this  day  was  done  !" 

2ffe  said — fate  granted  half  his  prayer,  his  steed  he  straight  bestrode, 

And  fell,  as  on  the  routed  rear  of  James's  host  he  rode  ; 

3e  sleeps  in  a  cathedral's  gloom,t  amongst  the  mighty  dead ; 

Awl  frequent  o'er  his  hallowed  tomb,  redeedful  pilgrims  tread  : 

The  other  half,  though  fate  deny,  we'll  strive  for,  one  and  all, 

And  William's,  Schomberg's  spirits  nigh,  we'll  gain,  or  fighting  fall ! 

•  3thonberg,  or  "the  mount  of  beauty,"  is  one  of  the  most  maj^nificent  of  the  many 
stHrToinoug  castlea  that  overhang  the  Rhine.    It  had  been  the  residence  of  the  chiefs  of 
t^ifMt  family  of  that  name,  which  existed  as  far  back  as  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  and  of 
vUek  th«  DuJte  of  Schomberg  was  a  member. 
t  St.  Patrick's,  Dublin. 


LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSY.  149 

THE  RELIEF  OF  liEYDEX.       IST*. 

In  the  days  of  the  olden  time,  when  the  spirits  of  men  were  strong, 
And  a  few  in  a  righteous  cause  would  defy  an  opposing  throng. 
From  the  might  of  the  hosts  of  Spain,  there  was  won  an  unsullied  crown, 
By  the  hands  of  the  burghers  bold — by  the  men  of  the  ancient  town 
Of  Leyden  upon  the  Rhine. 

For  a  false  and  tyrant  king  would  have  rent  their  old  rights  away, 
And  the  Inquisition  dark,  both  body  and  soul  would  slay. 
Till,  throughout  all  the  Netherlands,  neither  action  nor  thought  was  free  ; 
Ha !  they  rose  in  their  thousands  then,  by  the  shores  of  the  northern  sea. 
And  William  of  Orange  was  chief. 

And  the  Spaniards  like  locusts  came,  and  were  spread  over  all  the  land. 

And  the  burghers  were  all  unskilled  to  encounter  them  hand  to  hand  ; 

But  their   ramparts  were  stout  and  high,    and  were  held  by  a  fearless 

throng, 
And  behind  them  the  freemen  fought,  and  guarded  their  homes  from  wrong, 
In  spite  of  the  Spanish  hosts. 

And  fully  twenty  thousand  souls  in  old  Leyden  were  closely  pent. 
And  the  leaguer  had  lasted  long,  till  the  whole  of  their  food  was  spent ; 
For  the  foeman  with  many  a  tower  had  girded  the  city  about, 
So  that  none  could  break  through  and  bear  the  sad  tale  to  their  friends  with- 
out, 

Or  bring  a  relief  within, 

And  when  famine  had  pinched  them  sore,  and  they  died  from  want  in  the 

stre . t ; 
For  the  grass  and  the  weeds  on  the  wall  were  all  they  had  left  to  eat ; 
And  the  Spaniards  summoned  them  then,  for  they  knew  of  their  woful  plight  ,• 
*'  While  ther  's  flesh  on  one  arm  for  food,  with  the  other  we'll  dare  the 

fight," 

Beplied  the  bold  burghers  back. 

But  the  news  to  the  chieftain  came,  by  a  carrier  pigeon  sent, 
And  the  hearts  of  the  brave  beat  high,  as  to  succor  the  town  he  went ; 
But  his  forces  were  all  too  few;  so  he  broke  down  the  ocean  banks. 
Till  the  long  waves  came  leaping  in,  and  they  scattered  the  Spanish  ranks. 
So  Leyden  was  saved  from  war. 

But  the  billows  had  shut  them  up,  and  the  famine  still  raged  amain, 
And  they  sank  and  tney  died  for  want,  on  the  shore  of  the  watery  plain ; 
And  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  sai,  deep  laden  with  stores  for  food, 
Could  not  reach  the  o'er-famished  throng,  for  the  blustering  winds  with- 
stood. 

And  kept  back  the  rising  tide. 

And  two  days  did  they  watch  and  wait,  while  the  wind  from  the  Northward 

blew; 
And  they  sank  and  they  died  for  want,  with  the  ships  of  their  friends  in  view ; 
But  a  change  on  the  third  day  came,  for  the  strong  winds  had  veered  about, 
And  the  ships  came  careering  on  with  many  a  sturdy  shout, 
And  many  a  feeble  cheer. 


150  LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSY. 

They  were  saved !  and  with  joyful  hearts,  they  gave  thanks  unto  God  on 

high, 
Who  hill  sent  their  good  prince  with  help,  when  the  yoke  or  the  grave  was 

nigh; 
And  the  fight  of  the  free  was  won,  for  the  Spanish  had  fled  away. 
And  the  Orange  was  waving  proud,  on  the  ramparts  and  turrets  grey 
Of  Leyden  upon  the  Rhine. 
Lisbum.  L.  D. 


THE  SPANISH  ARMADA.    A.  D.  1588. 

[Philip  of  Spain,  having  long  meditated  the  destruction  of  England,  and  the  extermina- 
tion oi  the  Protestant  relif^ion,  determined  on  an  invasion.  The  fleet  was  ostentatiously 
called  "  the  invincible  armada."  We  refer  to  the  subjoined  ballad  for  an  account  of  the 
termination  of  the  enterprise.] 

"Rank  out !  rank  out,  ye  burghers  bold !  rank  out,  ye  yeomen  true  ! 
Ho!  gallant  squires  and  royal  knights,  there's  work  for  you  to  do  : 
And  j'e  stout  barons  of  the  land,  brace  on  your  armor  bright, 
The  Spanish  fleet  is  on  the  main — now  God  defend  the  right ! 

And  rushing  steed  and  beacon  blaze  the  warlike  tidings  sped, 
And  north  and  south,  and  east  and  west,  the  stern  alarum  spread  t 
And  village  green  and  castle  court  rang  with  the  quick  array, 
And  joyously  the  English  ships  dashed  out  from  Plymouth  bav. 

With  haughty  hopes,  and  purpose  fell,  the  dread  armada  came, 
For  papal  lips  had  hallowed  it,  and  fixed  its  boastful  name  ; 
And  Jesuit  sly,  and  cowled  friar,  and  shaven  monk  were  there, 
Deep  versed  in  every  butcher  art,  in  every  priestly  snare. 

And  seven-score  ships,  both  strong  and  tall,  were  sailing  on  the  main, 
Well  stuffed  with  Romish  racks  and  screws,  and  cavaliers  of  Spain ; 
And  as  they  reached  the  Lizard  point,  their  squadron  they  extend. 
And  stretched  away  in  crescent  huge,  seven  miles  from  end  to  end. 

But  gallant  Howard  'countered  them  in  all  their  grim  array, 
Though  eighty  ships  were  all  the  force  old  England  had  that  day. 
Yet  fearlessly,  right  on  their  foes,  the  daring  seamen  steered, 
And  loud    their  cheers  rnag  o'er  the  sea  as  still "  the  dons  "  they  Beared. 

And  first  with  fire-ships  drifting  down,  to  trample  them  he  strove, 
Then  full  on  their  disordered  line  the  "  Royal  Ark  "  he  drove  ; 
And  while  before  his  booming  shot  the  van  gave  way  in  fear, 
Still  Hawkinsi,  Drake,  and  Frobisher  were  thundering  on  their  rear. 

And  all  along  the  narrow  seas  for  eighteen  days  they  sped, 
And  still  the  English  warriors  chased,  and  still  the  Spaniards  fled  ; 
Like  swallows  from  the  swooping  hawk,  so  fled  the  foe  away, 
Till  Howard  drove  their  shattered  ships  up  beyond  Berwick  bay. 


LAYS    OP    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSr.  151 

The  strife  of  men  was  over,  the  din  of  battle  slept ; 
But  down  upon  the  crippled  fleet  the  wrath  of  heaven  stept ; 
Gainst  rushing  wind  and  dashing  surge,  the  seamen  toiled  in  vain, 
And  soon  beneath  the  raging  seas  was  whelmed  the  pride  of  Spain. 

Away,  away  by  western  isles,  away  by  Irish  shores, 
AVhere  struggling  'mid  the  jagged  rocks  the  chafed  Atlantic  roars, 
Lie,  tempest-scattered,  on  the  strand,  the  warlike  hopes  of  Rome, 
Their  requiem  the  breakers'  wrath,  their  shroud  the  ocean  foam. 

In  vain  the  ceaseless  mass  they  sing,  in  vain  along  the  steep 

Of  Finisterre,  the  anxious  watch  look  out  across  the  deep ; 

The  boastings  of  the  proud  are  stilled,  the  mighty  are  laid  low. 

For  Heaven  has  fought  on  England's  side,  and  crushed  her  haughty  foe. 

Now  glory  give  to  God  on  high,  who  saved  our  church  and  state 
From  Rome's  degrading  tyranny  and  Philip's  jealous  hate ; 
And  honor  to  our  good  Queen  Bess,  and  honor  ever  more. 
To  Howard,  lord  of  EfiSngham,  and  all  who  guard  our  shore. 

L.  D. 


BATTLE  OF  lilSNAGARVfiY. 

Fair  art  thou,  Lisnagarvey  !   and  fair  thy  happy  homes  ; 

And  faithful  are  thy  sons  in  peace,  and  staunch  when  danger  comes : 

And  o'er  thee  yet  is  floatirg  free,  the  banner  of  the  blue ; 

Though  changed  thy  name,  thou'rt  still  the  same — the  stronghold  ov  Ihe  troo. 

Two  hundred  years  are  past  and  gone  since  all  along  the  tide 
Of  blood-stained  Bann,  the  murderers  were  mustering  in  their  pri(>« 
And  Newry's  towers  had  fallen,  and  treason  had  success. 
And  scarce  a  gleam  of  hope  was  seen  the  loyal  hearts  to  blesr . 

And  slaughter  fierce  was  rioting  o'er  all  the  hills  of  Down, 
And  shot  and  shriek  were  mingling  thick  in  every  conquered  towA 
Nor  sex,  nor  age,  nor  plighted  faith,  from  treachery  could  save, 
And  the  name  of  Protestants  became  the  passport  to  the  grave. 

But  still  o'er  Lisnagarvey  the  royal  banner  flew, 

And  still  in  Lisnagarvey  stout  hands  the  falchion  drew ; 

Oh!   still  in  Lisnagarvey  a  home  the  loyal  found, 

And  peace  was  there,  and  holy  prayer,  while  murder  raged  around 

The  Red  O'Neil  his  standard  raised,  and  summoned  all  his  men  : 
And  kerns  and  galloglasses  poured  from  every  mountain  glen  ; 
And  stern  Maginnis  brought  from  Down,  his  trained  warrior  band, 
Eager  for  prey,  athirst  to  slay,  they  trooped  on  every  hand ! 

Then  marshalling  their  grim  array,  the  leaders  deeply  swore. 
To  sweep  the  name  of  Protestant  from  oflF  the  northern  shore  ; 
And  soon  on  Carrickfergus  keep  to  plant  their  banner  green. 
But  vain  the  boast,  for  all  their  host — old  Lisbum  lay  between ! 


152  LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MINSTRELSY. 

'Twas  on  a  Sunday  morning,  just  as  the  daylight  broke, 

The  pealing  horn  round  fair  Brookhill  each  rugged  kern  awoke  ; 

And  mass  was  said  in  eager  haste,  and  on  the  rebels  hied, 

To  crush  the  few,  the  staunch  and  true,  who  durst  their  coming  bide. 

'•  O'Neil !  the  red  hand  for  the  right !"     "  Maginnis  for  Iveagh  1" 

Eight  thousand  voices  ringing  loud,  upswell  the  fierce  hurrah ; 

"  For  church  and  king !"  "  for  church  and  king !"  "  we  trust  in  God  on  high  !'* 

With  weaker  shouts,  but  hearts  full  stout,  the  Protestants  reply. 

To  north  and  south,  about  the  town,  two  columns  took  their  course, 
While  ranked  upon  the  warren,  stood  the  main  strength  of  their  force  ; 
And  up  from  Lagan's  farthest  bank  they  made  the  first  attack — 
The  bridge  is  crossed,  the  pass  is  lost,  the  loyalists  give  back. 

Back  !  for  a  moment — thick  and  fast  adown  the  narrow  street, 
With  crushing  blow  and  grinding  stroke,  the  deadly  foemen  meet ; 
And  scarce  a  shot  is  heard  to  ring,  so  close  the  fight  they  ply. 
Till  soon  o'erbome,  and  all  forlorn,  away  the  rebels  fly. 

Then,  baiBed  and  repulsed  sore,  they  feared  to  venture  in, 
But  still  with  bullet-shower  they  strive  their  scanty  foes  to  thin ; 
And  thus,  opposed  the  livelong  day,  in  battle  range  they  stand. 
While  skirmish  hot  and  scattering,  harassed  the  loyal  band. 

The  night  closed  in,  but  Phelim  still  prolonged  the  hopeless  fight. 
While  cannon's  flash  and  mansion's  blaze  gave  out  a  fearful  light ; 
But  nobly  still  the  Protestants  maintained  their  fearful  post, 
Till  far  away,  ere  break  of  day,  had  slunk  the  rebel  host. 

Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  oh  God  !  but  unto  thee, 

The  honor  and  the  high  renown  of  our  deliverance  be  ; 

Our  strength  were  nought,  and  all  in  vain  our  weapons  might  we  bear. 

But  on  our  side  thou  didst  abide,  and  break  our  foemen's  snare. 

And  dearly  still  within  our  hearts,  the  memories  shall  dwell. 
Of  Rawdon  and  stout  Tyringham,  who  led  us  on  so  well ; 
But  chief  of  those,  our  comrades  dear,  who  in  the  battle  died. 
To  save  their  home  from  haughty  Rome,  and  stem  rebellion's  tide. 

Fair  fall  thee,  Lisnagarvey !  old  bulwark  of  the  north  !" 
May  thy  stout  sons  still  emulate  their  gallant  fathers'  worth  ; 
And  o'  er  thee  stainless  wave  for  aye  the  banner  of  the  blue  ! 
Though  changed  thy  name,  be  thou  the  same,  the  stronghold  of  the  true ! 

L.  D. 


THE  GATHERING  OF  THE  NORTH.    August,  1845. 

Good  men  and  true,  that  wear  the  blue,  'tis  time  that  ye  come  forth. 

And  ''  reck  them  rede  "  our  homestead  breed  throughout  "  the  canny  north  ;'* 

And  tell  them  yet  who  fain  forgot  the  gallant  blood  of  yore, 

Chey  yet  may  see  it  "do  or  dree,"  what  hath  been,  be  once  more. 


LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTREL8T.  153 

Where  Antrim  wakes  its  "  lake  of  lakes,"  its  giant  column  rears, 
Prom  Bann's  white  tide,  and  Lagan's  side,  now  rich  with  golden  spears, 
(From  bigot  strife  with  hunted  life  the  Huguenot  fled  here) 
Now  from  their  hold  come  yeomen  bold  and  stalwart  mountaineer. 

•'  The  maiden  town  "  will  send  us  down  a  brave  and  loyal  band. 
Though  shorn  be  now  her  fearless  brow,  that  guards  our  northern  strand; 
Good  men  and  true,  to  dare  and  do,  from  Garvagh  and  Coleraine  : 
When  spurred  by  wrong,  the  heart  is  strong  —God  teach  you  to  refrain. 

Where  the  foiled  sea  rocks  in  its  glee  indented  Donegal, 
By.lough  and  lake  her  sons  awake  and  gather  to  our  call : 
But  no  !  not  sleep,  'twas  thine  to  keep,  we  only  "  bide  the  time," 
'Twill  not  be  long  till  rampart  wrong  has  ripened  to  its  prime. 

Fermanagh !  thou  art  gathering  now — stem  spirits  thou  hast  bred, 
Woe  to  the  snake,  whose  shiny  streak  coils  through  the  grass  they  tread, 
Tyrone!  thy  tide,  the  true  and  tried,  is  pouring  down,  I  ween, 
Like  the  fierce  blast  that  rushes  past  old  Tyrell's  hills  of  green. 

And  loyal  Down !  from  shire  and  town  right  welcome  thou  shalt  be  i 
In  beauty  rare,  how  passing  fair  Rosstreyor  crowns  the  lea ! 
And  Newry  "leal,"  come  woe  or  weal,  will  "telegraph"  again, 
The  coming  brunt  and  noble  front  of  the  freebom  nprthern  men. 

Armagh  !  in  speed  send  to  our  need  thy  sinew,  blood,  and  bone. 
With  spirit  high,  in  heart  and  eye,  to  hold  to  death  our  own ; 
And  Monaghan,  though  last  not  least,  send  forth  unto  their  post, 
But  one  in  ten  of  thy  brave  men  to  crown  our  northern  host. 

And  now  we  stand  on  this  green  land,  and  under  heaven's  blue  dome, 
God  grant  the  prayer !  each  true  man  here,  go  bloodless,  scatheless  hom«; 
But  first  we  clasp  in  brother-grasp  a  fearless  loyal  band. 
Our  faith  to  plight  to  hold  the  right  for  God  and  native  land. 

We  ask  no  broil  our  foes  to  foil,  we  brook  their  insults  base. 
How  hard  the  task,  they  need  but  ask,  the  records  of  our  race ; 
The  "  Diamond  "  fight  will  tell  them  right,  the  banks  of  sullied  Bann, 
Unless  forgot,  they'll  tempt  us  not  "  to  bob  it  o'er  again." 

Each  rank  we  sink  in  brother-link,  the  true  old  blood  is  here. 

None  base  but  they  who  would  betray  the  righteous  cause  and  dear ; 

They  said  'twas  cold,  the  blood  of  old,  the  spirit  of  our  sires, 

But  here's  to  you,  good  men  and  true,  whose  hearts  retain  their  fires. 

But  oh !  we  boast  a  higher  trust,  and  better  iveapons  wear. 
They  taunt  us  still  "  the  Bible  men,"  would  that  in  truth  we  were  • 
So  help  us  God  on  this  green  sod  we  pray  a  faithful  prayer — 
Thy  peace  bestow  on  friend  and  foe,  and  t€ach  us  to  forbear ! 

A50K. 


154  LAYS   OF   THE    ULSTER   MINSTRELSY. 

THE  UliSTER  YEOMEN'S  REMONSTRANCE. 

[These  verses  are  the  expression,  however  inadequate,  of  the  feeling  of  the  yeomanry 
of  Ulster,  on  the  attempt  to  deprive  them  of  their  tenant-right,  an  attempt  unexampled 
in  the  annals  of  social  fraud.  Upon  the  settlement  of  Ulster,  by  James  I.,  the  tenure  of 
the  yeomanry  was  intended  as  clearly  ag  that  of  the  landlords.  Indeed,  the  twelfth  arti- 
cle of  the  conditions  of  the  plantation  distinctly  stipulated  for  such  tenures.  The  land- 
lords, however,  evaded  the  article,  and  the  spirit  of  clanship  which  pervaded  the  tenantry 
prevented  the  latter  ever  fearing  the  attempt  which  is  now  threatened  to  deprive  them  of 
their  right.  Accordingly,  the  rather  anomalous  custom  of  selline'  the  tenancy-at-will  has 
prevailed  since  the  plantation,  and  certainly,  if  ever  a  prescription  was  ju.st,  this  one  is  ; 
and,  although  there  is  the  strong  opinion  of  no  less  an  authority  than  Sir  James  Graham, 
that  the  prescription  is  not  good  in  law,  its  foundation  is  incomparably  clearer  than  that 
of  those  rights  which  generally  rest  on  the  legal  doctrine  of  prescription.] 

What  is  this  right  your  new-made  laws  demand  of  us  to  yield  7 
The  right  to  live  like  Christian  men,  not  oxen  of  the  field ;  • 

To  feel  we,  freemen,  tread  the  land,  ouj  freemen  fathers  trod — 
The  right  to  lift,  at  kirk  and  church,  unfettered  hands  to  God. 

We  have  been  kinsmen  of  your  blood,  and  clansmen  to  your  name ; 
No  bond  we  asked  but  nobles'  words  when  to  this  land  we  came ; 
And  now  our  rights,  but  favors  none,  we're  seeking  at  your  hands  ; 
Wo  gave  our  yeomen  services — we'll  keep  our  yeomen  lands. 

They  tell  us  Tipperary  boasts  far  kindlier  meads  than  ours 
That  fairer  valleys  spread  beneath  grey  Cashel's  sainted  towers ; 
Where  hoary  keep  and  meadow  green  the  Royal  Shannon  laves, 
God's  hand  more  bountiful  hath  been,  but  men  to  men  are  slaves. 

They  tell  us  those  who  lord  it  there,  their  fellows  have  down-trod, 
Not  caring  that  which  they  deface,  the  image  is  of  God  ; 
That,  in  their  pride  and  avarice,  they  laugh  His  word  to  scorn, 
Who  bids  them  "  muzzle  not  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the  corn." 

Was  it  for  fate  like  this,  my  lords,  our  people  crossed  the  sea. 

From  Niall's  and  O'Donnell's  swords  your  race's  guard  to  be  1 

Did  for  such  serfdom  many  a  year  our  yeomen  fathers  strive 

From  wolf,  from  woodkerne,*  and  from  want,  to  save  your  souls  alive  9 

Beware,  lest  by  our  chimney  nooks  we  trace  our  annals  back, 
And  see  of  our  stout  hands  and  hearts  how  dire  has  been  your  lack, 
And  think  that  with  our  hoi    cause,  and  with  our  courage  true. 
We  might  for  our  own  race,  have  done  what  we  have  done  for  you. 

Think  ye  we  from  our  fathers  heard  no  tales  of  days  gone  by, 
When  side  by  side  with  yours  they  met  the  "Iri-she  enemie," 
Ere  country  had  forgotten  been,  and  clanship  had  grown  cold. 
And  every  man  was  weighed,  as  now,  but  by  his  weight  in  gold  ? 

When  on  the  trackless  woods  sank  down  the  long  December  night. 
And  Slemish  and  Slievegallon's  heads  with  Christmas  snow  were  white. 
And  through  the  drift,  with  gleaming  skeines,  the  vengeful  kern  came  on. 
What  men  were  they,  in  such  an  hour,  whose  right  hands  kept  the  bawne?t 

•  The  name  of  the  common  Irish  who  had  been  left  by  O'Niall's  wars  in  a  state  of 
great  want  and  degradation.  "  Sir  Toby  CaulGeld's  people,"  says  Blannerhasset,  in  1610, 
"are  driven  every  night  to  lay  up  his  cattle,  as  it  were,  in  ward,  and,  do  he  and  his  what 
they  can,  the  woolfe  and  the  woodkerne  within  culivershot  of  his  fort,  have  oftentimes 
their  share." 

t  Bawne  was  the  name  given  to  the  square  keeps  erected  by  the  first  British  settlers  in 
Ulster. 


LAYS    OF    THE    ULSTER    MIN'STRKLST.  155 

And  when  that  dread  AUhallow-tide,*  at  awful  evening's  close, 
From  Erne's  lake  to  Antrim  town  the  blood-red  fires  arose, 
And  out  of  captured  town  and  bawne,  and  over  vale  and  heath, 
From  woman's  lips  the  midnight  wind  bore  on  the  shriek  of  death 

Who  rallied  round  your  walls  and  towers  that  night  of  fear  and  woe, 
With  hearts  all  bleeding  for  the  dead,  but  fearless  of  the  foe  ; 
And  fought  till  Cromwell  came  at  last,  after  long  years  of  toil, 
To  smite  the  murderer  in  his  blood,  the  robber  with  his  spoil  1 

Bethink  ye  well  before  je  try  to  grind  us  down  to  earth ; 
The  hands  that  kept  a  hostile  land  can  keep  a  yeoman's  hearth. 
We  look  around  our  hills  and  vales — are  recollections  there 
Of  failure  or  defeat  to  bid  our  fathers'  sons  despair  1 

Derry  frowns,  "  unsurrendered  yet,"  where  Foyle  and  ocean  join; 
Proud  as  of  yore  looks  down  Donore  upon  the  storied  Boyne  : 
Bungannon  still  nprears  its  spire  against  the  vault  of  blue. 
As  when  waved  glorious  in  its  choir,  the  flags  of  '82. 

The  ploughman's  share  each  Spring  lays  bare  the  bones  of  Antrim  field  : 
Tell  us,  have  memories  such  as  ihese  but  taught  our  hearts  to  yield*? 
And,  ere  by  fraud  ye  take  the  right  our  toil  repays  again, 
From  past  days  learn  this  lesson  stem — Beware  the  Ulster  men ! 

Akoh. 


OLIVER'S  ADVICE. 

BT  COLONEL  BLACKER. 

The  night  is  gathering  gloomily,  the  day  is  closing  fast, 

The  tempest  flaps  his  raven  wings  in  loud  and  angry  blast; 

The  thunder  clouds  are  driving  athwart  the  lurid  sky, 

But,  "  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry." 

There  was  a  day  when  loyalty  was  hailed  with  honor  due. 
Our  banner  the  protection  waved  to  all  the  good  and  true. 
And  gallant  hearts  beneath  its  folds  were  linked  in  honor's  tie, 
We  put  our  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  kept  our  powder  dry. 

When  treason  bared  her  bloody  arm,  and  maddened  round  the  land. 
For  king  and  laws,  and  order  fair,  we  drew  the  ready  brand  '. 
Our  gathering  spell  was  William's  name,  our  word  was  "  Do  or  die," 
And  still  we  put  our  trust  in  God,  and  kept  our  powder  dry. 

But  now,  alas !  a  wondrous  change  has  come  the  nation  o'er, 
And  worth  and  gallant  services  remembered  are  no  more. 
And  crushed  beneath  oppression's  weight,  in  chains  of  grief  we  lie. 
But  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

*  The  Irish  massacre  of  1641  began  on  the  eve  of  AUhallows,  in  that  year- 


156  LAYS    OF    TIIK    ULSTER    MINSTRELSY. 

Forth  start  the  spawn  of  treason,  the  'scaped  of  ninety-eight, 
To  bask  in  courtly  favor,  and  seize  the  helm  of  state ; 
E'en  they  whose  hands  are  reeking  yet  with  murder's  crimson  dye — 
But  put  your  trust  in  God.  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

They  come,  whose  deeds  incarradined  the  Slaney's  silver  wave, 
They  come,  who  to  the  foreign  foe  the  hail  of  welcome  gave ; 

He  comes,  the  open  rebel  fierce,  he  comes  the  Jesuit  sly ; 

But  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

They  come,  whose  counsels  wrapped  the  land  in  foul  rebellious  flame, 
Their  hearts  unchastened  by  remorse,  their  cheeks  untinged  by  shame  t 
Be  still,  be  still,  indignant  heart,  be  tearless,  too,  each  eye, 
And  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

The  Power  that  led  his  chosen,  by  pillared  cloud  and  flame. 
Through  parted  sea,  and  desert  waste,  that  Power  is  still  the  same  r 
He  fails  not ;  He,  the  loyal  hearts,  that  firm  on  Him  rely, 
So  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

The  Power  that  nerved  the  stalwart  arm  of  Gideon's  chosen  few. 

The  Power  that  led  great  William,  Boyne's  reddening  torrent  through. 

In  His  protecting  aid  confide,  and  every  foe  defy, 

Then  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

Already  see  the  star  of  hope  emits  its  orient  blaze. 

The  cheering  beacon  of  relief  it  glimmers  through  the  haze ; 

It  tells  of  better  days  to  come,  it  tells  of  succor  nigh, 

Then  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry» 

See,  see  along  the  hills  of  Down  its  rising  glories  spread, 
But  brightest  beams  its  radiance  from  Donard's  lofty  head  ;* 
Clanbrassil's  vales  are  kindling  wide,  and  "  Roden  "  is  the  cry. 
Then  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

Then  cheer  ye,  hearts  of  loyalty,  nor  sink  in  dark  despair, 

Our  banner  shall  again  unfold  its  glories  to  the  air ; 

The  storm  that  raves  the  wildest,  the  soonest  passes  by  . 

Then  put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

For  "  happy  homes,"  for  "  altars  free,"  we  grasp  the  ready  sword. 
For  freedom,  truth,  and  for  our  God's  unmutilated  w  ord ; 
These,  these,  the  war-cry  of  our  march,  our  hope,  the  Lord  on  high  ; 
Then' put  your  trust  in  God,  my  boys,  and  keep  your  powder  dry. 

*  Lord  Roden  resides  at  the  base  of  Slieve  Donard. 


157  LAT9  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELSY. 

ULSTER,  TO  THE  RESCUE. 

Tone—"  Le  Petit  Tambour." 

The  doulling  drum  is  sounding, 

All  o'er  the  loyal  north ; 
And  faithful  hearts  are  bounding, 

As  its  summons  bids  them  forth ; 
And  our  fathers'  flag  is  flying, 

Aloft  in  blazoned  pride  ; 
And  fearless  men  are  hieing, 

To  rank  them  by  its  side. 

And  Down's  green  vales  are  ringing 

With  loyal  sounds  once  more, 
To  Antrim  echo  flinging 

From  cliff  and  rocky  shore  ; 
For  Derry's  ancient  slogan 

Is  pealing  to  the  sky, 
And  Bann  gives  back  the  token— 

"  We  conquer  or  we  die." 

And  stern  Lough  Erne  is  bounding, 

In  answer  to  the  call ; 
And  stout  Tyrone  resounding, 

Wakes  rocky  Donegal : 
And  all  along  the  border. 

Of  Cavan's  flre-tried  land, 
Ranks  in  unbroken  order, 

A  firm  devoted  band. 

And  the  "  Diamond  "  bright  is  blazing, 

'Mid  champions  of  the  truth  ; 
And  the  gathering  cry  is  raising 

The  scatterers  of  Truagh ; 
And  loud— hurrah  !  and  louder ! 

O'er  plain  and  inland  wave, 
Rings  forth  a  summons  prouder, 

Than  ever  monarch  gave. 

The  motto  of  our  glory ! 

The  battle  word  of  old ! 
The  boast  of  Orange  story  ! 
'  The  'prentice  answer  bold, 

Rings  loud— hurrah!  rings  louder ! 

O'er  plain  and  inland  wave, 
A  mustering  summons  prouder, 

Than  ever  monarch  gave. 

And  no*,  God  bless  the  yeomen, 
In  Ulster's  happy  homes ; 

God  shield  them  from  their  foemen, 
Uphold  when  danger  comes. 


LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRRLSr,  158 

May  the  Orange  still  united, 

With  their  fathers'  sturdy  blue, 
By  faction' s  breath  unblighted, 

Wave  o'er  their  legions  true. 

From  statesmen,  treason  veiling, 

'Neath  false  and  hollow  smiles ! 
From  hearts,  in  honor  failing, 

Or  won  by  Jesuit  wiles  ; 
From  fear,  when  danger  gathers, 

Or  rebels  venture  forth ; 
Oh  !  Helper  of  our  fathers ! 

Guard  thou  the  loyal  north, 
Lisburn.  Leamh  Dhkabs 


THE  CIIARTER  SOJTG  OF  THE  WATSON  ORANGE 
liODGE,  No.  3Se. 

Tune—"  Auld  Lang  Syne." 

In  darkness  long  our  flag  has  Iain, 

But  on  its  silken  fold, 
Nor  falsehood's  blot,  nor  treason's  stain, 

Has  ever  fixed  a  hold : 
For  strong  the  warp,  and  true  the  dye, 

That  formed  its  blazon  bright ; 
And  vain  was  envy's  purchased  lie, 

And  vain  oppression's  blight. 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  it  meets  the  day ! 

'Neath  sun  or  storm  the  same  : 
And  on  its  fold,  full  fair  enrolled. 

Shines  Watson's  honored  name. 

They  thought  that  northern  men  forgot, 

The  deeds  of  days  gone  by ; 
That  northern  men  remembered  not 

Their  ancient  rallying  cry ; 
But  Antrim  has  good  men,  and  true, 

Whose  spirits  freedom  fires  ; 
And  Orangemen  will  still  renew 

The  watchwords  of  their  sires. 
Loyal  our  cause,  as  e'er  it  was  ; 

In  weal  or  vroe,J.he  same  : 
And  all  in  vain  they  sought  to  stain 

Our  Watson's  honored  name. 

Then  while  the  foes  of  truth  combine, 

And  rank  their  legions  vast. 
And  boast  their  strength  in  battle  line, 

Oh !  let  them  read  the  past ! 


159  LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTREL8T. 

And  learn  how  our  brave  fathers  fought, 
And  crushed  their  vauntings  then ; 

And  Derry,  Lisnagarvey  taught 
The  might  of  free-bom  men. 

Our  blood  the  same  with  theirs  who  came 
1  Victors  from  Aughrim  field ; 

And  freemen  bom,  like  them  we  scorn, 
To  popish  slaves  to  yield, 

Brother  with  brother,  here  we  join, 

Brother  with  brother  bold ; 
Hand  grasped  in  hand,  as  through  the  Boyna^ 

Our  fathers  marched  of  old. 
Pledged  to  each  other  to  be  true, 

By  all  our  hearts  hold  dear  : 
The  foemen  throng,  though  friends  are  few, 

Nor  wiles,  nor  threats  we  fear 
But  scorn  them  all,  whate'er  befall, 

In  weal  or  woe  the  same , 
And  to  the  last,  for  all  that's  passed, 

We'll  honor  Watson's  name. 

■*^ 

Ours  is  no  politician's  wile. 

We  know  not  how  to  bend ; 
No  treasons  our  bright  cause  defile, 

We  rise  but  to  defend  : 
And  for  the  rights  that  yet  remain, 

Of  those  our  fathers  won. 
And  by  the  hopes  our  hearts  retain 

Of  better  days  begun; 
Brothers  we  stand— hand  grasped  in  hand, 

Like  those  who  crossed  the  river  ; 
And  give  once  more  the  pledge  of  yore, 
"Thebb-fifty-six  fob  ever  !" 
Usbum.  Leamh  Dhearo. 


THE  OLD  COMMODORE.* 

TuNB — "Lucy  Neal." 

Vhh  sing  you  an  old  ballad,  though  it  may  grieve  you  sore, 
Of  a  fine  old  country  gentleman,  known  to  you  all  before. 
How  manfully  he  led  the  chase,  though  well  nigh  eighty-four, 
And  fearlessly  did  leap  the  fence,  the  gallant  Commodore ! 

Oh !  old  Commodore, 

Oh !  brave  Commodore, 
He  was  a  fine  old  gentleman  !  the  gallant  Commodore ! 

♦  James  Watson,  Esq.  the  worshipful  master  of  the  county  Antrim  who  was  deprived 
of  the  magift«cy  for  leading  the  Lisburn  procession  of  '45,  by  Sir  Robert  Peel's  govern- 
ment, is  familUrly  known  as  "  The  old  Commodore." 


160  LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELSY. 

And  when  our  July  meeting  came,  he  led  his  Orange  corps, 
For  who'd  have  thought  it  anything  without  the  Commodore  1 
And  proudly  did  he  stand  that  day,  as  in  the  days  of  yore, 
And  proudly  on  his  loyal  breast,  the  Orange  colors  wore ! 
Oh  !  old  Commodore,  &c. 

But  when  this  came  to  Bobby's  ears,  ho  raged,  and  stamped  and  swore ; 
To  think  that  he  could  bearded  be  by  an  Irish  Commodore ! 
So  down  he  sent  his  mittimus,  James  conned  it  o'er  and  o'er. 
Said  he,  "I'm  still  grand  worshipfnl  from  Lough  Neagh  to  Bengore-" 
Oh  !  old  Commodore,  &c. 

Alas !  the  old  man  he  must  die  !  his  loss  we  will  deplore  ; 
Yet  let  us  trust  the  cause  wont  die,  when  Watson  is  no  more ! 
And  while  its  wondrous  mysteries  within  our  hearts  we  store, 
We  will  keep  up  three-fifty-six,  for  thy  sake.  Commodore  ! 
Oh !  old  Commodore,  Sac. 

N.  G. 
LisbuTQ 


JLIXES  OX  JOHX  JEFFERSOX,  SEX.,  ESa. 

Lines  composed  on  the  occasion  of  Johx  Jefferson,  Sen.,  Esq.,  Aughnahoe,  being  the  last 
now  living  (March,  185J,)  of  the  Lisburn  Company  of  Cavalry,  in  1T93. 

The  snows  of  more  than  eighty  years  has  fallen  on  his  head. 
And  all  the  men,  with  whom  he  ranked,  are  numbered  with  the  dead ; 
Of  the  Lisburn  Corps  of  Cavalry,  he  now  survives— the  last — 
The  only  one  remaining  here,  a  witness  of  the  past. 

His  courage,  when  displayed,  was  of  the  most  unflinching  kind, 
Honor,  honesty,  and  justice  were  centered  in  his  mind ; 
As  the  last  oak  of  the  forest,  he  remains  in  vigor  strong, 
An  heir  of  life,  immortal — and  of  peace,  enduring  long. 

In  seventeen-'ninety-eight,  when  the  Papists  had  rebelled, 
The  Orangemen  convinced  them  that  treason  could  be  quelled  j 
When,  during  'ninety-eight,  the  rebel  standard  was  unfurled. 
The  Cavalry  and  Yeomanry  showed  valor  to  the  world. 

We  should  all  remember  still,  with  due  appreciation. 
The  mem'ries  of  the  men,  who  were  deliverers  of  the  nation ; 
In  sixteen  'eighty-eight,  in  'ninety,  and  in  famous  'ninety-eight— 
May  the  spirits  of  those  heroes  ever  flourish  in  the  Stata ! 

There  were  some  who  joined  the  Papists,  in  fatal  'ninety-eight— 
Before  that  all  was  over,  thoy  repented,  when  too  late  ; 
For,  who  could  e'er  e.^pect  to  find  that  Popery  was  sincere, 
Which  sacriflces  everything  humanity  holds  dear . 


LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTREL8T. 

Past,  are  those  days  of  trouble— but  may  soon  return  again— 
May  Protestants,  from  joining  in  with  Popery,  refrain ! 
Then  shall  the  power  of  Antichrist  be  crushed  within  this  land, 
And  truth  will  triumph  everywhere  with  strong  victorious  hand. 

Then,  as  the  western  ocean's  gem,  shall  Ireland  be  alway. 
When  gospel  precepts  over  it  exert  their  peaceful  sway ; 
This  land  shall  then  be  flourishing,  all  glorious,  great  and  free, 
A  praise  among  the  nations,  from  her  centre  to  the  sea. 

If  we  would  "  act  but  well  our  part,  for  there  the  honor  lies," 
Our  country,  to  prosperity,  successfully  would  rise ; 
No  more  a  byeword,  and  a  proverb  all  the  nations  through 
She  then  would  be,  and  that  for  aye,  the  stronghold  of  the  true, 

R.  B.  B. 
DriBLiN,  March,  1852. 


161 


ON  THE  GRAVES  OF  THE  FRENCH  PROTESTANTS 
IN  lilSBURN  CHURCH-YARD. 

[lathe  eastern  wall  of  Llsburn  ohurch-yard  area  few  weather-worn  tombstones^^^^^^ 
sole  memorial  in  that  district  of  a  numerous  colony  ^of  Huguenot  exiles  who  BatUW 
rtoat  Lisburn  towards  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  «"er  the  repeal  of  the  Edujt 
of  Nantz.  Of  the  tombs,  one  has  these  woi d^  :— "  Luge  viator  et  ut  lUe,  dum  vita  maneoat, 
fiuspice  coelum,  despioe  mundum,  respice  finem."] 

Lightly  tread !  beneath  are  sleeping, 

Warriors  of  the  cross  of  God ! 
Warriors !  conscience  truly  keeping, 

Spite  of  persecution's  rod ! 
Warriors !  on  their  God  relying ! 

Warriors !  victors  over  Rome  ! 
Kings !  whom  glories  never  dying, 

Wait  in  an  eternal  home  ! 

Faithful,  like  their  sires  before  them, 

To  the  faith  their  souls  had  tried ; 
Vainly  bigot  power  o'erbore  them, 

Vainly  courtly  arts  were  plied. 
Danger  scorning,  bribes  despising, 

Wealth  and  lands  they  left  behind ; 
More  than  gold  their  conscience  prizing. 

More  than  homo  their  chainless  mind. 

Northmen !  northmen !  guard  their  slumbeia 

From  their  persecutor's  tread ; 
Ye  have  strength  from  which  her  numbers, 

Scathed  and  broken,  often  fled : 
Rally  here  in  time  of  dangers. 

Rally  here— 'tis  holy  ground : 
Let  the  spirit  of  the  strangers, 

Burning  in  your  hearts,  be  found. 


162  LAYS  OP  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELST. 

Yours  the  foe  whose  hate  bereft  them 

Of  their  homeateads  by  the  Rhone ; 
Here's  the  heritage  she  left  them — 

Sculpture  dim  and  mouldering  stone, 
List  the  lesson  they  are  preaching 

From  the  strange  soil  where  they  lie } 
Hear  the  faithful  exiles  teaching 

Wisdom  that  can  never  die. 

"  Trust  not  Rome  !  for  pledges  broken 

Mark  the  noontide  of  her  power  ; 
Oaths  that  royal  lips  have  spoken, 

Fade  in  her  triumphal  hour  : 
Rights  a  grateful  king  had  given 

To  the  men  that  reared  his  throne, 
From  their  sous  were  basely  riven, 

When  her  bigot  power  had  grown. 

"  Thus  she  robbed  us  of  our  valleys ; 

Slew  our  pastors  with  tha  sword ; 
Doomed  our  brethren  to  the  galleys ; 

And  her  shaven  robber  horde, 
All  their  priestly  arts  are  plying, 

In  the  mansions  of  the  brave, 
Where  our  fathers'  bones  are  lying. 

Far  beyond  the  ocean  wave. 

"  Trust  her  not — when  most  she's  telling 

Of  her  love  for  '  altars  free,' 
Then  her  tiger  heart  is  swelling, 

With  the  hope  that  soon  shall  be 
Vengeance,  deep,  and  black,  and  lasting, 

Trampling  down  her  every  foe, 
Truth  oppressing,  freedom  blasting, 

Chaining  souls  in  gloom  and  woe." 

Northmen !  northmen !  mark  the  teaching 

Of  the  men  who  would  not  lie  ; 
Hear  the  faithful  exile  preaching 

Wisdom  that  shall  never  die. 
Trust  not  man,  for  man  betra  ed  you , 

Trust  not  Rome,  her  friendship  slays : 
Trust  in  God — with  him  to  aid  you. 

You  shall  stand  when  Rome  decays. 

Leahh  DHEABa. 
Lisburn. 


—  O- 


I.AyS    OP   THE    ULSTER    MINSTRKLST.  163 

[From  the  Protestant  Watchman,  Dublin,  October  20th,  1848 
the:  ORAIf  GBMEUr  OF  THE  NORTH. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Enow  nothing  about  dismay, 
Their  cause  is  just  and  noble, 

It  still  shall  carry  the  day. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Have  the  spirits  of  their  sires, 
Who  conquered  at  the  Boyne, 

And  opposed  the  Pope's  desires. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Still  are  ready  to  maintain 
The  cause  of  good  King  William, 

Without  either  spot  or  stain. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Shall  still  defend  their  freedom 
As  their  fathers  long  before 

Upheld  it  in  this  kingdom. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Are  loyal  "  good  men  and  true," 
Theii  rights  they'll  still  maintain 

With  the  "  Orange  and  the  Blue." 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Will  ever  unflinching  wear 
The  colors  which  their  fathers 

Kept  throughout  with  sacred  care. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Shall  preserve  those  colors  free 
From  every  traitor  "felon," 

Though  a  friend  he'd  seem  to  be. 

The  Orangemen  of  the  North 

Still  raise  their  "  No  Surrender," 
In  memory  of  him  who  was 

Their  "great  and  good"  defender. 

A*  A.  6. 


1^4  lATS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELSY. 

ORANGEMEN,  COME  ON.« 

A  War  Song. 

Tune—"  Scots  wha  hae." 

Lo  !  the  wide  horizon  glows 
With  the  watch-fires  of  your  foes! 
Lo  !  each  lighted  mountain  shows 

Where  they  bide  their  time  I 
Soon  shall  dawn  the  fatal  day, 
Rolling  drudi  and  trumpet  bray, 
Soon  shall  wake  the  deadly  fray ; 

Orangemen,  come  on ! 

Who  but  cowards  would  hang  back  1 
Who  but  traitors  would  prove  slack  1 
When  to  shield  her  from  attack 

Freedom  calls  her  sons  1  ■ 

Rouse  ye  !  fearless  men  and  trae^ 
Rear  the  righteous  cause  anew ! 
Freedom's  latest  hope's  in  you : 

Orangemen,  come  on ! 

By  your  dead,  your  martyred  dead, 
By  their  blood  in  torrents  shed, 
By  the  murderous  bullets  sped 

From  the  foemen's  guns ; 
By  your  fathers'  swords  !  by  all 
That  their  ancient  deeds  recall — 
Boyne's  red  ford  and  Berry's  wall, 

Orangemen,  come  on ! 

*  "  The  Orange  Associationwas  formed  in  the  year  1795,  and  the  first  lodge  was  held 
in  the    village  of  the   Diamond,  in  the  county  Armagh,  on  the  21st  day  of  September. 
We  have  the  testimony  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Committee,  that  in  the  prior  contiicts*  be- 
tween tlie  Trotestant  and  Tapist  parties,  the  latter  were  the  aggressors  ;  and  from  Mr.  Em- 
mett,  the  acknowledgement  that  the  occasion  of  forming  the  first  Orange  Lodge  was  an 
outrage  which  Protestants  must  have  regarded  as  a  most  perfidious  violation  of  a  sol. 
emn  engagement.    The  Protestants  had  fought  a  pitched  battle  with  their  enemies— had 
won  it ;  and  had,  instead  of  following  it  up  in  blood,  granted  a  truce.    A  day  had  only 
elapsed  when  they  found  tlie  truce  broken,  and  were  compelled  to  reassemble.     Out  of  this 
afl'ray  arose  the  Orange  institution.     It  has  been  said  that  it  is  calculated  to  excite  bad 
feelings,  and  to  promote  tumults  and  aggression.    To  this  the  best  reply  is  the  tranquility 
of  Ulster     In  ancient  days,  when  one  who  had  done  Rome  service  was  falsely  accused, 
he  pointed  to  the  Capitol,  and  the  memory  of  the  good  he  had  achieved  was  sufficient  to 
effect  his    exculpation.      The  Orangemen  do    more  !   they  say,  we  saved  tlie  country 
in  the  hour  of  its  sorest  peril  ;  and  we  have  preserved  the  districts  where  ourorganiza- 
tion  is  effective,   against  the  disturbances    which  affright  and  affect  the  less  guarded 
provinces.    This  defence  ought  to  be  understood.    The  merchant  on  'cliange  should  ask, 
why  are  lands  in  Ulster  of  higher  purcha.«e  than  in  uny  other  parts  of  Ireland  ?    Why 
does  capital  find  there  a  more  secure  investment  ?    The  economist  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons should  inquire,  why,  in  the  estimate  for  the  Irish  military  establishment,  judging 
of  expenses  by  the    distribution   of  the  troops,  Ulster,  containing  much  more    than  a 
fourth  of  the  population  of  Ireland,  puts  the  empire  to  not  one  twelfth  of  the  expense  ? 
The  man  of  moral  and  religious  principle  should  inquire,  why  is  it  that  inquests  on  vio- 
lent deaths  are  so  few — that  the  calendar  of  crime  in  Ulster  is  so  light  in  comparison 
with  other  Irish  circuits— perhaps  I  might  .say,  in  comparison  with  Kngland — and  if  it 
be  found  that  districts  where  there  is  lea<t  crime,  most  security  and  Ica.st  expense  of 
government  and  protection,  are  the  districts  where  Orangeism  is  most  prevalent,  it  should 
awaken  a  disposition,  not  of  course  to  receive  as  truth  what  Orangemen  allege,  but  not 
to  give  instani  and  implicit  credence  in  what  their  enemies  inveigh  against  them."    "It 
has  stood  the  test  of  two  most  scrutinizing  parliamentary  committee!? — one  of  the  Lords, 
in  the  year  I8i5,  and  the  other  of  the  Commons,  183G,  without  the  slightest  imputation 
being  cast  upon  it  which  has  any  weight  with  rational  men."    Accordingly  to  other  ac- 
counts, the  first  lodge  met  shortly  after  the  Diamond  fight,  in  Dian,  County  Tyrone. 


LAYS  OF  THE  ULSTER  MINSTRELSY.  165 

From  the  homes  your  swords  yet  keep 
Where  the  waves  on  Toughal  leap, 
To  where  Bann  is  rolling  deep, 

Down  by  stout  Coleraine ; 
From  the  strongholds  of  the  brave, 
Schomberg's  tomb,  and  Walker's  grave, 
Erne's  proud  shore,  and  Lagan's  wave, 

Orangemen,  come  on ! 

Slumber  not !  your  foemen  wake ; 
goon  the  fatal  morn  will  break, 
Soon  the  frighted  hills  will  shake 
With  the  battle's  roar ; 
,    Linger  not !  the  hour  is  nigh ; 
See,  the  dawning  streaks  the  sky ; 
March !  no  surrender  !  win  or  die ! 
Orangemen,  come  on ! 

Leahh  Dhea^Q. 
Lisburn. 


SO  SURRENDER. 

Behold  !  the  crimson  banners  float. 

O'er  yonder  turrets  hoary ! 
They  tell  of  days  of  dauntless  note, 

And  Berry's  dauntless  glory ; 
When  her  brave  sons  undaunted  stood, 

Embattled  to  defend  her. 
Indignant  stemmed  oppression's  flood, 

And  sung  out  "  No  Surrender." 

Old  Berry's  walls  were  firm  and  strong. 

Well  fenced  in  every  quarter, 
Each  frowning  bastion  grim,  along, 

With  culverin  and  mortar  : 
But  Berry  had  a  surer  guard. 

Than  all  that  art  could  lend  her, 
Her  'prentice  hearts  the  gates  who  barrecl, 

And  sung  out  "  No  Surrender." 

On  came  the  foe  in  bigot  ire. 

And  fierce  the  assault  was  given ; 
By  shot  and  shell,  'mid  streams  of  fire, 

Her  fated  roof  was  riven. 
But  baffled  was  the  tyrant's  wrath, 

And  vain  his  hopes  to  bend  her, 
For  still  'mid  famine,  fire  and  death. 

She  sung  out  "  No  Surrender." 


166  LAYS  OF  THE   ULSTER  MINSTRELSY. 

Again  when  treason  maddened  roond 

And  rebel  hordes  were  swarming, 
Were  Berry's  sons  the  foremost  found, 

For  king  and  country  arming : 
Forth  they  rushed  at  honor's  call, 

From  age  to  boyhood  tender, 
Again  to  man  their  virgin  wall. 

And  sing  out  "  No  Surrender." 

Long  may  the  crimson  banner  ware, 

A  meteor  streaming  airy, 
Portentous  of  the  free  and  brave, 

Who  guard  the  gates  of  Derry. 
And  Derry' s  sons  alike  defy. 

Pope,  traitor,  or  pretender. 
And  peal  to  heaven  their  'prentice  cry, 

Their  patriot  "  No  Surrender." 

Ahoit. 


€l)e  Protf0tant   Batiner. 

J.  B.  FINLA.Y,  L.  L.  D.,  Editor. 
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